Tangle of Rosaries
by sweet-and-simple
Summary: "Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep. See me safely through the night, And wake me with the morning light." Lee needed saved and Father Sabaku needed a renewal of faith. Alternate Universe
1. Prologue: Lee Rock

_Six years ago…_

"_Now I lay me down to sleep,_

_I pray the Lord my soul to keep._

_See me safely through the night,_

_And wake me with the morning light._"

Lee crossed himself, from his forehead to his heart, from left to right shoulder, and then kissed his plastic rosary. He had made it himself in class, with the other children, and their bishop had blessed it for him.

"Amen," he breathed, and then scrambled up into bed, away from the chilly floor, and sighed blissfully as he slid beneath the blankets.

He closed his eyes – and didn't fall asleep. Something tugged at him, an inkling of a worry, and he thought to himself, _'Naruto is out past curfew. I should look for him.'_

But Naruto was a bad boy and usually came in well past curfew anyhow, usually with strange marks on his body that he would refuse to talk about. Naruto would tell Lee to not worry about him and so Lee had learned to not be concerned. He had slept through many nights that had begun in Naruto's absence and ended with him trying to shake the blonde awake to no avail.

The uneasiness continued to claw at him and his prayer beads felt heavy in his clenched, sweaty hands.

'_Naruto has need of me! I should look for him!'_

Lee sighed and gave in.

There was nothing to lose in searching for his roommate, at least. If he was caught, Bishop Shimura would have him recite passages from the Bible and assign him twice as many chores as Lee already had to do, but it would not be so terrible.

If Lee was caught, Naruto would most likely be caught with him, and they had already gone through the numbing trials of cleansing themselves of their minor missteps with their Bishop.

The cold floor sent shivers up his body and he grabbed his spring jacket as an afterthought, curling into it as he stepped out of their bedroom. Around him, the orphanage was silent, peacefully so, and Lee frowned in envy.

He was never happy unless he got eight hours of sleep at least. Loss of rest made him cranky. Naruto – Naruto took cat naps throughout the day, so it never mattered to him. And if he could not manage that, three to five hours a night sufficed him, and another spike of envy shot through Lee before he could dispel it.

He would very much like to be sleeping. Hopefully, Naruto would be happy about Lee's show of concern! Because then he would smile and say, "Thanks, Bushybrow! You're a great friend!" And that would make his loss of sleep worth it.

The orphanage was small, yet the halls mending one into the other could make a stranger not even realize that they were walking in circles if they weren't careful. Lee had lived there for as long as he could remember, though, and managed to get downstairs when upstairs proved to have no Naruto. He walked as silently as a drifting feather, just in case one of the sisters was still awake.

Lee puffed out his cheeks irately. He wanted to go to bed! Under his covers where it was nice and warm… He had gotten new sheets for Christmas, ones that felt really soft and weren't hand-me-downs.

He peeked into the kitchen, actually hoping that Naruto would be trying to steal a late-night snack. "Naruto?" he whispered into the hush. "Naruto, are you there?"

There was no answer, and he sighed dismally. "Naruto, where are you?" Then he heard something – a strange, short shattering of the pressing silence.

He scurried through the kitchen, out the opposite archway into the small, clustered dining hall, and doubled back in horror.

Bishop Shimura was at the dining table, a long, polished length of maple, on each side of it a matching bench, and he had been sitting on the table with –

Lee slapped his hands over his mouth. His rosary trembled and pressed against his lips and he shook with them.

In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, someone please tell him that he had not just seen that.

But he listened, against his will, and he could hear the very quiet, stifled cries of pain and the muffled wet sounds of a body being violated. Tears caught in his big dark eyes and a single one trailed down his cheek.

'_N-Naruto? Is this why Naruto is always late for curfew? The marks? But, no! No, no, no! Not this…'_

He slowly looked around the corner and saw, blurrily, Bishop Shimura hurting Naruto, small, tough Naruto, and Naruto looked angry and hurt and ashamed and confused and there was a ball gag in his mouth.

Naruto was Lee's friend, one of Lee's very few friends, and Lee felt something hot like fury burn in his chest as Naruto squealed around the gag, trying to claw free of the tape binding his wrists together.

His friend, no, his _best_ friend, was being hurt! And Bishop Shimura… But he was a Holy man. He led their church, spent his valuable time at their orphanage, he, he was so…

So _evil_.

Lee growled and leapt free of the darkness. Bishop Shimura's one eye spotted him and Naruto's expression blanched and then paled with horror and fear and, and _hope_.

His rosary felt like a ton weight in his fist. "Let go of Naruto!"

~""~

_Author's Note: This is the beginning of a multi-chapter story inspired by (goodness, inspiration is key for me these days; I'll think up something original sooner or later): _

_Chinesefirethorn's and Lunaka's story, _Risen Demon_ (a multi-chapter story for Gaara and Lee, Lee being an incubus sent to damn Gaara, a priest, to Hell – very good read, with wonderful smut. You can find it at Y-Gallery)._

_The anime/manga, _Ao No Exorcist_, or, translated, _Blue Exorcist_ (which is actually a lot like the anime/manga, _Naruto_, except, instead of ninjas, there are different classes of demon hunters and such)._

_And, last, but not least, Gordon Ramsey having a priest bless his dinner before he even dared to eat it (It's a cooking show and Gordon curses like a sailor, but I thought that moment absolutely priceless because there just _had_ to be a table of priests there as I was contemplating writing this)._

_So, yes, there was a lot of inspiration for this. _

_This is just a short prologue (it amuses me that my author's note is nearly half the length of the actual chapter). I'm not certain about my update schedule yet, so, please, just bear with me. _


	2. Prologue: Father Sabaku

_Present day…_

"_Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned…_"

"You may speak, my child."

The woman wheezed, sweat sticking her hospital gown to her yellowed skin, hair plastered to her face and neck, and her pale, milky eyes stared at him and yet saw nothing but what was within him. Her mouth opened, rows of rotten teeth, tongue blistered, and she spoke again, in ancient tongues that battled to be spoken at the same time.

"_I have been found by a fool like you!_" Then the woman wheezed again, writhed, wrenched, and one braided rope holding her wrist snapped. She screamed something fierce as she arched off the bed, only forced back as he calmly sprinkled her with holy water.

"You have been found," he corrected. "By me or someone else, it doesn't matter. Release the woman in your possession."

"_She is mine! Her mind, her soul, they were riddled with sin! She welcomed me into her body! A whore, a whore, a WHORE! An adulterer!_"

She howled as he sprayed her again.

"Release the woman in your possession," he repeated. "Or I will begin praying."

"_To who?_" The woman's eyes swiveled in their sockets, searching the crevices and surfaces of the room she had been retained to. "_Who will listen to a depraved soul like you?_"

"God."

The demon laughed, a horrid, echoing noise where there shouldn't have been an echo. "_He has abandoned you! He has been gone for centuries! He does not care!_"

"Then what have you to fear?"

And the demon stopped laughing and the woman's eyes focused on him.

Her bottom lip began to tremble and color returned to her, gaze turning brown. "F-Father? Oh, Father, where am I…?" She looked wildly around her holding cell, then at her bonds. "What _is_ this? Please, Father, let me go! Let me go, I don't understand…"

He sprayed the holy water again and the woman released another yowl of agony. "I will not be fooled."

As the demon began screaming, one endless sound of earsplitting rage, he raised his prayer beads, made of Libyan Desert Glass, to his lips and kissed them.

And he prayed in a low, steady voice, unchanging tone, and his words dug into the demon's darkness and snagged it, ripping it free of its human victim.

As his last words drifted over the woman, however, the demon resisted, stronger than ever before, and the woman's eyes found his, now a pale golden.

"_Gaara_…." Purred a voice different from the demon's, and yet most definitely not the woman's. Another demon, a stronger one, and his eyes flashed with recognition as the second demon growled, "_Are you done playing God's advocate?_"

The woman broke free of her bonds with another almighty scream as her body bowed off the bed, only the balls of her feet and the back of her head supporting her up, and a shadow was released into the air around her, like noxious gas.

The woman fell limply back, unconscious, but alive, and he checked her pulse to be doubly sure. Over her forehead, fingers dipped in holy water, he drew the symbol of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, whispering a prayer for her soul.

The gas took a form, a small, beady eyed creature with small horns sprouting from its misshaped head, a pointed tail slapping irately against its wrinkled thigh. It looked up at Gaara, still in pain, and hissed, retreating away from him.

"_You can see me?_" it screeched. "_No mere mortal can see my true form!_ _Who are you? What be you? WHAT IS YOUR NAME?_"

He unwound the beads from his hand as his other dipped into the hidden pockets and holders of his cassock. From its depths, he drew a gun not unlike in appearance to a Colt Anaconda and tangled his rosary around the barrel. "In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit – I dispel of you."

"_TELL ME YOUR NAME!_" it roared, cloven feet pounding against the floor, and the room shook in its fear and fury.

"Rest in Hell." And he pulled the trigger.

~""~

_Author's Note: Short chapters, I know. I hope to eventually make them longer. Anywho, jariyasea asked a very good question: Why would the pope molest Naruto in such an open place where they could be discovered (though she asked in not those exact same words)? The answer is – oops. Author fail._


	3. One: The Email

_Dear Mr. Pope…_

_Our names is Chen, Samo, and En. We live in Konohagakure in Saint Michael's Orphanage. Bishop Shimura leads our cathedral…_

SELECT ALL. DELETE.

_Dear Mr. Pope…_

_Our names are Chen, Samo, and En. Chen has a secret power, like superheroes do. He can see demons…_

SELECT ALL. DELETE.

_Dear Mr. Pope…_

_Our names are Chen, Samo, and En. We live in Konohagakure in Saint Michael's Orphanage. Please send someone to exercise our big brother Lee. En has a secret power, like superheroes do. He can see demons. He says Lee has a demon and Lees been acting wierd. _

Delete, delete, delete, delete, delete, delete…

_Most Holy Father…_

_Our names are Chen, Samo, and En. We live in Konohagakure in Saint Michael's Orphanage. Please send someone to exercise our big brother Lee. En is blind but he has a secret power, like superheroes do. He can see demons. He says there are demons on Lee and Lees been acting weird._

_So we need an exorsist. Please send someone right away._

_If you don't know where Konohagakure is, or where Saint Michael's Orphanage is, the address is in the header of the email. We know your busy with pope things, but Lee is really, really important to us, and we don't want to lose him to pozesion._

_Amen._

_Chen, Samo, and En_

_~ Bless the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit ~_

…

SEND.


	4. Two: The Arrival

"When I was as young as you, it was unheard of for women to become anything more than nuns. Now I am being ordered around by a female Arch-Bishop." Bishop Shimura frowned distastefully. "Times have changed."

"You don't sound pleased," husked his companion, walking side by side with him.

"Well, I'm of an older generation." Bishop Shimura stated. "I've been usurped by more fools than I care for, but I've never had to live with the insult of being outranked by a woman." He held up his hands, fingers curled towards the palms, palms facing towards the ceiling. "Women are defiled creatures. Without them, men would never have sinned, and now they are tainting the very foundation of our existence that keeps Hell at bay from snatching us all off the face of the earth and into flames!"

Father Sabaku listened to him with a calm aura, an even calmer expression, and, unsettling Bishop Shimura with its intensity, with unwavering focus. There was something not right about his eyes, how pale and emotionless they were, compared to the heaviness of his lids that spoke of many sleepless nights.

And that _tattoo_. There was no doubt in Bishop Shimura's mind that Father Sabaku had led a sinful life before he had found God.

Inwardly, he sneered at the creature sent to his cathedral, _his_ cathedral, on some whim of Arch-Bishop Senju, that damnable hag who always thought to invade his territory and mock him. And now _this_.

He hadn't even known that the Most Holy Father answered emails, much less took them seriously.

"We are all damned at this rate," he continued on indignantly, busying his hands with his vestment robes. The silence between them stretched without an argument or agreement from the other man.

"I think I've talked long enough. Why don't you tell me about yourself, Father Sabaku?"

Another thing he didn't like about the younger man: His hair, there was no possible way that it was naturally so vibrantly _crimson_. If Bishop Shimura left it to himself to interpret the man's appearance, he would say that the priest was a murderer.

Hair could only be that red if there had been blood spilled and the bags under his eyes must have been from countless hours of the dead haunting him, never allowing him the rest he didn't deserve. And that focus of his – _suspicious_.

No, Bishop Shimura did not like this man at all.

"You know why I'm here." Father Sabaku came to a standstill in the crossing before the chancel. Light filtered in dully through the stained glass windows, catching dust particles in a glow and yet, somehow, throwing the priest into shadows.

It was daunting and Bishop Shimura rounded the chancel to stand at the alter, putting distance between them. A shaft of light also separated them and he mentally thanked the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit for it.

Something wasn't right in the least about Father Sabaku and he didn't know a soul who would disagree with him.

"You've been avoiding talking about it since I arrived," the priest went on, speaking in a low, raspy voice. "Arch-Bishop Senju called you before I came."

"So she did." A hint of bitterness entered his tone. "But I never asked _why_ you were here. I asked about you. Or is what and who you are defined by what you do?"

Father Sabaku gave him a very strange look, one that was directed over Bishop Shimura's shoulder with the cold passion of a beast on the scent of a lamb, and he prowled closer to him, ignoring every obstacle Bishop Shimura had put between them.

He reached out, fast as Creation, and Bishop Shimura only had time to watch his hand retreat before he realized that anything had happened at all.

Father Sabaku held his hand in a tight fist at his side and returned his unnerving gaze to Bishop Shimura's face. "You know more about me than you want to. That's enough."

He turned on his heel and stalked down the nave towards the exit. His hand, still a fist, appeared stranger and stranger the longer Bishop Shimura stared at it. It was shaking. No, it was in spasm. No, it was _bleeding_.

At the set of double doors, Father Sabaku paused. "You should be careful of the company you keep on your shoulders." And then the doors opened and closed as he left, leaving Bishop Shimura alone to get ready for Mass.

He stared at the strawberry blonde carpet that clothed the nave and aisles. Every step Father Sabaku had taken to leave was accompanied by droplets of blood.

He crossed himself and then frowned.

No, he did not like the man at all, and he wanted him gone as soon as possible.

~""~

Gaara doused his hand in Holy Water – and the little bugger struggling free of his grasp with it.

It screamed something unholy and burned, like acid against his skin, but pain was something he had accustomed himself to and the sound of something sizzling hardly ever made his stomach roll anymore.

"_Saint Michael the Archangel,  
defend us in battle.  
Be our protection against the wickedness and snares of the devil.  
May God rebuke him, we humbly pray;  
and do Thou, O Prince of the Heavenly Host -  
by the Divine Power of God -  
cast into hell, Satan and all the evil spirits,  
who roam throughout the world seeking the ruin of souls._"

"Amen," he added in a small breath, and the demon screeched again before it became silent and oozed through the cracks of his fingers like oil, its futile attempts at freedom finally done with.

With little thought for it, he washed away the acidic mess with what was left of the Holy Water, wiped his hand off on his black cassock, and then drew it away to stare at the raw red skin and the beginning of blisters where the small demon's flesh had poisoned his. That would hurt for some time, he thought dismissively to himself. And then he retrieved a roll of white gauze from one of his inner pockets and carefully wrapped his wounded appendage.

He would let it air out when he was ready to retreat to his room. For now, there was work to do.

Anyone watching him wouldn't have noticed a change in his expression, but everything in him grew tired at the thought. Yes, work to do. Always, there was work to do, and the age old fury he had learned to control gnashed and clawed at its fetters.

'_USELESS! Everything you do is USELESS! Not enough or done too late, haven't you realized it yet? Stop LYING to yourself and ADMIT IT. It's useless, you're powerless, and you'll never WIN.'_

He closed his mind off to the voice of doubt. If he was in doubt, his faith would be weakened. Any weakness in his faith could be exploited as a weakness in his spirit and that was how demons slipped through, into the body, into the mind, into the heart – through unsteady conviction, through the _'But maybe…'_

He pulled his glass rosary from his breast pocket and pressed it to his lips. It was warm, always warm, and he breathed a sigh of slight relief.

Now, however, was not the time for pause. Now, introductions aside, it was time to go to work.

He glanced sharply at the demons that danced around and round the cathedral. It was only a building. It was made of glass and wood and stone and cement and plaster and it was supported by no magical means. It had been built by Man and it would ultimately crumble with age.

The demons knew it and they pranced up the stairs and wriggled through the crevices and cracks of the church, worming their way in.

Faith would have stopped them; they would have shied away from the cathedral as if Holy Water and Grace poured from its very floors and walls and pews. Had the cathedral homed true faith, a kindness in the hearts of everyone within, the cathedral would have been a haven, a Holy Place as it had been meant to be. However, it only ever took one dark soul to spoil the light.

Bishop Shimura had been right about one thing: the foundation of their existence was tainted. It was rotting away, as surely as wood would with termites eating at it and the weather beating on it. But women had little to do with it.

Bishop Shimura was a hunted man, a sick, hunted man whose faith was so absolutely twisted, he couldn't even see the evil that followed him like a caravan.

~""~

_Author's Note: A longer update to make up for the last chapter. See? See? Slowly, but surely, my chapters are getting somewhat lengthier. _


	5. Three: We've Been Waiting

It had been two months since they had sent that email to His Holiness, the Pope. Two months and no reply.

No one had come to save Lee and Lee was only getting worse.

When they had sent the letter, Lee hadn't been too bad. He had been acting weird, but no one else had noticed except them. Lee had always been weird and outlandish and no one had thought to take a second look at him.

He was too happy, people had said. He spoke too loudly and drew too much attention. He acted as if it was his duty and his duty alone to 'save the innocence of today's youth', whether this ranged from community watch to babysitting to nearly murdering a registered pedophile that had gotten too close to, what had come to be 'affectionately' called, Lee's little roost of chicks.

So when he had started getting quieter, minutes for a time, no one else but them had noticed, or, really, no one else but them had been _worried_. His smile had faded away, day by day, till his pearly whites were permanently hidden by his drooping frown. His bright eyes grew dull.

It happened so gradually that no one even tried to stop it.

"_Hasn't Lee always been like this?"_ Bishop Shimura had said when they had begged him to check on Lee, telling him that something was wrong, wrong, _wrong_. Then he had brushed them off and demanded that they leave him be, that he was busy.

He was too busy to save Lee. He, their Bishop, was too busy to save Lee, one of his followers. To the three of them, it was the greatest betrayal ever conceived.

And then Lee stopped leaving his bedroom. He became… snappy. Angry. His room fell into an oily darkness, his single window hidden behind a heavy black cotton curtain.

His room started smelling strange. _He_ started smelling strange. Not even a good kind of strange, but an unpleasant sort.

He smelled of alcohol and his bedroom of vomit. Smoke hung in the air that made them dizzy whenever they would fight their way into his quarters and he would scowl at them, eyes gleaming, and slur at them, throwing things. Sometimes, instead, he would grin dopily and start asking them questions that scared them.

"_You keepin' yer pantsh sup?"_

"_You lettin' annnyone put shtuff in yer mouths?"_

"_No one'sh sheein' yer partsh, right?"_

He used to have a very formal way of talking. Now they were lucky if they could understand him. Luckier if they couldn't.

They didn't have a clue how he got the alcohol – he was only seventeen – but they were more scared to ask what the smoke was.

Now it was October and it was cold outside. The streets were dressed in hues of brown and yellow and red and the trees were shedding like cats in summer.

And they had given up on His Holiness sending them help. What was there to do when there was no backup coming?

Be their own backup, of course!

"No, it's going left! _Left_!"

Chen and Samo reeled backwards and sped off in the opposite direction they had been going, En's hands in each of theirs, and chased off after an evil they couldn't see.

The heaps and streams of autumn leaves flew into motion as they ran past and the cold sunlight they were getting made their pants and gasps for air visible in showers of condensation. Sweat made them damp and that, in turn, made them shiver from a chill setting its claws into their skin.

But they kept running, Chen clutching a vial of (borrowed) Holy Water in her free hand and Samo a Bible in his. Between the three of them, they should be able to save Lee! They just had to get rid of the demons in town, one by one, and then, including the one already on Lee, and then Lee would be safe because there would be no more demons to haunt him….

Right?

_Right_?

They hoped so.

Then En released a short, surprised scream. "It's running towards us! _It's running towards us_!"

"Holy water!" Chen screamed for En's benefit as she uncapped the Holy Water and swung it in a wide arc in front of them, catching leaves and the sidewalk alike, but En just screamed again. "That didn't stop it!"

"But it's _Holy Water_!" Chen yelped, giving the flask a look of pure confusion. "I know it is." She let go of En to grab the flask in both hands, studying it as if it might reveal some flaw to her under careful enough scrutiny.

Samo let go of En to struggle with the Bible, all of the bookmarks he had carefully placed in the pages having come loose or disappeared into the book's depths with all the running he had been doing.

No one was holding onto En, and there was an evil speeding towards them that knew that En could see it.

Next to them was a street; a street slick with decomposing leaves and the last two nights of rain. A car was coming down the street, its driver fiddling with his iPod and furious that it was on low battery. Hadn't he had it plugged in all of last night? It had been doing okay till he got to this lane!

And no one was holding onto En.

En screamed as he was bulldozed into, roughly swung around, and then catapulted off the sidewalk. Chen and Samo spun around to watch him go with a unified, terrified yell.

The car driver had yet to look up.

En groaned where he had landed and rolled over. He could smell the tar beneath him and vibrations from the car shot up through his body like a wave to begin a tsunami. He gasped and scrambled in the direction he was facing, hoping it would lead him back towards his friends and out of harm's way.

Samo cried out, "Wrong way, En! WRONG WAY! GET OUT OF THE WAY!"

"GET OUT OF THE WAY, EN!" Chen echoed, already at the curb, about to run out into the street and save En.

Because Lee would have without even giving it a second thought.

But the car was too fast, the driver had just finally realized why his iPod was dead, and it was too late by the time he looked up, irritated but mostly at peace with his epiphany.

En was a few feet away from being driven under his wheels.

The car swerved wildly to the left, slipping on the slick tar, and the bumper wound around near enough to –

A black and red blur came and went, like watching an acrobatic swing through the air except the blur's moves were too fast to follow.

The bumper did not strike En, but, instead, swerved to a stop, and a man with scarlet hair, wearing a black cassock, was crouched on the curb, a young boy held safely against his chest.

En… En was _safe_!

"EN!" Chen ran towards them, Samo at her heels.

"En, are you okay?" Samo asked as the driver got out of his car and trotted over.

En wasn't looking at them, though. His blind eyes, usually hidden behind tinted sunglasses, but not today, not while they were out demon hunting, were focused on the man as if he could _see_ him – and he looked awed.

"I understand what you're all trying to do," husked the stranger in a deep, raspy voice, apathetic and unruffled. "But you'll only end up getting killed if you're not more careful." He set En aside and stood.

There was a tear in the knee of his black slacks and a button had popped free of his cassock during his epic rescue of En. His one hand was bandaged for some reason they didn't know and he didn't bother brushing away the wet leaves and dirt marks that clung to him.

But Chen and Samo weren't fooled: this was a guardian angel sent from Heaven, sent to them in their time of need, and they just stood there, gawking, in awe of their savior. Samo smothered his Bible against his chest and Chen dropped the vial, shattering glass. The demon, only around the corner, hissed and dashed away, safe to spoil life another day.

The driver approaching them paused a short distance away, taken aback by this reaction to the man in the cassock.

En's mouth opened and closed before he finally smiled. "You're here to save Lee, right?" he asked the stranger. "We've been waiting a really long time for you."

~""~

_Author's Note: Chen, Samo, and En aren't OC's, believe it or not. They are from the Ninja Academy Arc, I do believe – where each of Konoha 11 (or something like that) was assigned a three-cell team. Lee's team was made up of Chen, Samo, and En._


	6. Four: Killing the Voice

When Lee's bedroom door opened, he knew it would be Chen, Samo, and En coming to interrupt him. He was _doing things_ at the moment, _things_ that didn't need to be interrupted by the children.

_Nosy children_, hissed a voice that he had long since assumed was in his mind. _Why can't they leave you alone? It's not like no one's ever locked themselves in their room before – it's called _privacy_, assholes._

The thought, or what he understood to be a thought, made him frown. That wasn't his issue at all, and he didn't think Chen, Samo, and En were nosy. Or, well, actually, they _were_, but he had always thought it sweet of them, how concerned they grew of others and how they whispered their little secrets…

The minty smoke chased away his thoughts and his eyes rolled in their sockets as the tension loosened from his shoulders.

_It makes you angry!_ Snapped the voice. _Your childhood was fucked up – lowest of the low, most painful of the painful, filled with shame and lust and agony and misconceptions. But what do _they_ show for it? They don't know you at all but they're still trying to 'save' you? _

_What's there to save?_ The voice asked him and Lee's head lolled to rest lazily against one shoulder. _You've lost everything._

He had a point. So he glared when the door opened more and the three children edged their way in, _afraid_. Afraid of what? He had never harmed them – no, he had only ever protected them and they, they were afraid? He did not deserve their fear!

_No gratitude_, hissed the voice. _You dedicate your life to them and now look at them! Sniveling little bastards – you should _give_ them a reason to fear you._

But he didn't want to. So he busied his hands with another can of alcohol and tried to see the tab through blurry vision. The smoke made his mind hazy, a godsend, and the beer simply made his mind blank, an even greater achievement.

"Go 'way," he slurred, then his frown deepened because he couldn't even recognize his own voice.

Maybe he should put away the drugs. It wasn't the first time he had considered doing such. But something always stopped him, something always called him back to the blessed state of drug induced stupidity…

Oh, right. The new voice he had acquired. It was rather depressing, but it was like the voice had sharp, pointy teeth and dagger talons that it had burrowed into his soul, refusing to let go and slowly, oh-so slowly, killing him.

_You know what will happen if you stop; or have you forgotten? This helps the pain go away, like rain for another day, doesn't it? Why would you _want_ to stop? What would _you_ gain from that, huh? Huh? Why bother stopping when this is the best you've ever felt?_

_Get rid of them. GET RID OF THEM!_

"L-Lee…" Chen picked at the hem of her dress, a dress that Lee could only vaguely focus on, and he felt a flash of an emotion at the dirt and mud spattered across the pretty blue fabric. Then the voice hushed him in his mind and the emotion was gone.

_You're so angry_, hissed the voice, and it sounded like it knew more of what it was doing than Lee, so he listened. _It takes you locking yourself away for anyone to realize that you're hurting? Bastards. Assholes. WHORES. _

He took a swift gulp from the can. "Go _'way_," he grumbled again and Samo, Chen, and En flinched as one being.

Then Chen swallowed thickly and stepped forward, Samo and En protectively behind her, and Lee felt another flash of emotion – this one he could identify as shame and pride.

_Pride_, because, gosh, Chen was so cute and brave and he was glad to know her.

_Shame_, because, _damn it_, she made him hate himself.

_Get rid of her! You're only doing what you can, aren't you? What right does she have to make you feel like shit? And if she knew… oh, if she knew, she would try to be all-knowing, wouldn't she? She would try to make everything sound so simple and solvable but it's not like that, is it?_

_Get rid of her. She's just a nuisance._

But she wasn't. She was important to Lee. His eyebrows drew together. Then he inhaled again and he forgot how much she meant to him.

"We brought someone here to help you!" Chen said loud and fast, as if afraid that she would be outshouted or ignored.

Lee blinked sluggishly at her, a little angry because her volume had caused a slight pulsing in the back of his head. Was he getting a hangover _while_ still drunk? Wasn't that supposed to happen when the buzz was wearing off?

Then En stepped forward, like a choir coming together, and Samo stuck himself to her other side. "He's going to save you," En said confidently with a smile. "He can see demons, like I can, but he can hear them too!"

Lee's mean voice, for the first time since it had arrived, was eerily silent. He swore he almost felt something close to _fear_, but it wasn't _his_ fear. The strange sensation made his hand fist around the can and it crunched under his force, spewing what beer was left inside across his lap. The uncomfortable wetness, quickly turning sticky, made him want to throw the can at them in frustration.

He ignored it, though, and dropped the can on the floor instead because, as En said this, Samo was gesturing wildly towards the still open doorway. Lee's eyes could barely keep up with the movement but then it only became stranger.

A red and black stick walked into the room.

Then, upon further, and harder, speculation, he realized it was a redheaded man in some sort of black fabric cloth. A cassock?

How odd.

_MAKE HIM GO AWAY! He's going to hurt you! See the cassock? He's a man of God – just like Bishop Shimura. Just. Like. Him. And if this man's here and Bishop Shimura isn't, what does that mean? Huh? Huh? And what is he doing with the kids?_

That last question struck something deep in him and his eyes flashed with rage as his jaw tensed and he rushed to his feet. Or, at least, tried to. His foot caught in the quilt skewed over his bed and he tumbled over the mattress' edge. Inches from landing on his face, he caught his weight with one hand, swung himself free and into a crouching position, and released a battle cry as he threw the first object he could grab at the man's head.

It was his bedside lamp and it shattered against the wall as the man deftly stepped to the side.

Chen, Samo, and En cried out at the sudden attack, En jerking towards the other two and looking around wildly, trying to understand what had just happened. But he didn't look at Lee. He hadn't looked at Lee in a long time, and, when he did, he would look haunted and afraid.

Why were they afraid of him? All he ever did was protect and nurture them! He never hurt them!

"Get th'fuck 'way fr'm them!" He roared at the stranger. To him, he sounded perfectly clear, but the confusion that crossed the children's scared expressions told a slightly different story.

The man carefully moved around the three. "Chen, Samo, En," he named in a soft, husky voice that echoed in Lee's ears, pulsing in time with his ear drums, "I need to be alone with Lee for now. It would be best for you three if you didn't hear or see any of this."

"C-can you help him?" Chen whispered and begged all in one.

Lee growled. "Fuck off! I don't need yer help! I don't need anyone'sh help!"

_Help you? Help you with what? What's so wrong with you _now_ that they're starting to notice? It's a little too late, isn't it? It's too fucking late, so tell them. No, show them. They won't get it unless you show them._

Then he looked up and he thought, maybe, had he not been so drunk and more focused, he would have met the stranger's eyes. Except he couldn't make out any details like that; he couldn't even tell from moment to moment where he himself was looking!

"I can do my best to help him," the stranger husked. "Go now. I'll find you when we're done here."

They filed out the door, a short line of hung heads and slumped shoulders. Samo, last in the line, turned towards him. "When you're all better, let's play tag, okay?"

Lee blinked stupidly. Tag? He enjoyed tag…

_Oh, yes, chasing after little boys and little girls, tackling them and touching them in filthy places, getting that look of betrayal in their eyes… You love it._

He choked on a whimper. Then they were gone and the door closed behind them.

Lee wasn't sure how he knew it – as it was, he had stopped coming to feel any of it some time ago – but the temperature of the room dropped by five degrees once they were alone together, him and the redheaded man of undetermined rank.

For all Lee knew, he was facing the new Pope, youngest in the long history of Popes. It wouldn't surprise him, not right then and there. He hadn't had any outside contact, aside from the children, for nearly a week now.

"Rock Lee," breathed the new man. "My name is Gaara Subaku. You may call me Father Subaku." Lee watched him unravel gauze from his one hand. Revealed beneath was a mass of something that Lee couldn't distinguish with his eyeballs practically swimming in beer.

"I'll do my best to save your soul."

_Your soul doesn't need saving, not from someone like – _

"Don't listen to the voice, Lee. Just listen to me."

The voice, to Lee, sounded as if it was shocked into silence. Then it screeched and he flinched at the hellish noise bombarding the walls and crevices of his mind.

"Don't w'nt to… to lishen t'you. Just go 'way!" He reached out, grabbed another object, and threw. This time, it was the Bible and Father Sabaku caught it in one hand before bringing it in front of him and opening it to the back of the front flap.

As Lee had grown up, his protective role over the younger children had made a mark on the orphans that had passed through. So, whenever one was to leave, for whatever reason, they would write a small note in his Bible.

The inside of the front and back covers were filled with sweet, encouraging words, as were any other pages in the Bible with enough room to write in. Father Sabaku read them and Lee snarled in fury.

That was _his_!

_Let him keep it. What did those children ever think they could do for you? You protect them, night and day, and then they _leave_ you and think some words can make up for it? You've been abandoned so many times! Ink and lead are no substitutes._

He almost subsided because, to him, that made perfect sense. His dizzying thoughts told him that that was the most sense he had heard in far too long. He _had_ been left behind more times than he could count – all by people he had come to care deeply for. And those words, no matter how kind they were, never made him feel less lonely.

He was _alone_, and _lonely_, and just as scared of what was going on as Chen, Samo, and En appeared scared of him!

He wished Naruto was still there – gosh, Naruto would have been able to save the day. He always had, right up until his last mistake.

He shouldn't have tried to tell the authorities about what Bishop Shimura was doing to them – the authorities, they went to Bishop Shimura's church. They never made an arrest, but they told Bishop Shimura everything Naruto had told them. They had thought it was a sad orphan's attempt to get attention and they had prayed for Naruto's devious soul as Bishop Shimura had directed them to.

The next morning, Lee had been all alone and Naruto had been on a train to a correctional facility for his 'evil tendencies'.

_He was the first to ever leave you behind – and then everyone followed after him. Even your God has left you alone. _

The voice cackled.

_You're damned to Hell!_

Father Sabaku flipped through the pages, finding every kind note there was, and then closed the book and set it gently against his chest. "If you had been, the voice would be doing more than talking to you."

Lee sneered at him. "Go 'way."

"No." Father Sabaku reached into his cassock and brought out what could have been a vial.

The voice screeched again and Lee shook his head to clear away the earsplitting agony.

"You're stronger than you think, Lee."

He froze. The voice froze. Lee looked at the Father out of the corner of his eye, breathing tapering, and his hands clenched at his sides. Suddenly, his knees felt weak – why did they feel so weak? – and he fell backwards back into the bed.

"I-I'm not."

"You are." Father Sabaku began walking towards him, one slow step at a time, like he was approaching a wild beast.

The voice screeched again and Lee's hands rose to his chest, clawing at the skin and the muscle and ribs, feeling some indescribable _pain_ dig into his heart and rip it to shreds like wrapping paper. He sobbed at the unexpected torture, fighting to breathe through it and failing. He wheezed weakly.

_He's mine! You can't take him from me, HE'S MINE!_

What? What was going on? That voice, it was so strange. So weird and Lee was just about done with it.

"You are not evil or tainted," Father Sabaku continued to say, getting that much closer. "You would have been overtaken by now if you were. You would have done as the voice commanded instead of fighting it."

Lee whined low in his throat. Then the agony twisted, churned, as if his heart had been wrenched on, and his mouth opened on a scream that was cut short by a hot liquid that coated his tongue. He coughed and choked on it, brought his hand up to his mouth, and, in the next second, wondered why there was blood on it.

_Don't listen to him! You're filthy, polluted, a _whore_, a disgusting _thing_. So disgusting… Why else does everyone keep leaving you?_

Why _was_ he always abandoned in the end? Every time he made a friend, they had to go away. When it was with the younger children, they were either adopted off or moved to a different orphanage. With the older children, they had grown up and been kicked out. With children outside the orphanage…

Well, they would leave him too, no doubt. Shikamaru and Neji and Chouji – gone, just like that, if they knew.

_Because you're spoiled produce._

"Lee, ignore the voice."

He startled at the sound of his name. Father Sabaku was saying it a lot. Why was he addressing him so much?

A part of him, the part that he missed, that was nice and even halfway smart, suggested that it was because Father Sabaku wanted Lee to know that he knew who he was and was there _for him_.

The new part of him, the part of him that made him shy away from his own body, feeling overcrowded and hurt, whispered that Father Sabaku was mocking him. Names were powerful and Father Sabaku was whoring his out.

_Just like you do to yourself._

He screamed and clubbed his fists against his ears. "Shut up, shut up, SHUT UP!"

Hands grabbed onto his wrists and pulled them away from his head. The vial and Bible had been put down by his side and Father Sabaku crouched down in front of him.

"Bishop Shimura is hurting you, isn't he?"

Lee stopped breathing.

Everything inside just… _stopped_.

"You're a good person, Lee."

"You…" Lee swallowed hard. "You don't _know_ me."

Lee's drunken haze was clearing up. He didn't like to be sober, it made him _feel_ things, and he felt panicky and scared and his head felt like someone was driving _spears_ through it and this man, this man was confusing him!

_That's right; he doesn't know you. See that vial? Shove it down his throat. Hurt him, hurt him like that dirty old man does to you, make him _feel_ how much you hurt! See the way he's looking at you? Those aren't normal eyes, pluck them out. He's judging you. He's judging you!_

"You don't know _me_!"

"No, I don't" Father Sabaku admitted softly. Then he picked up the Bible and held it high to hold Lee's attention. "But these people did and they wouldn't want this for you."

Lee sobbed. "That's not… you don't know that! Get away from me! _GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME!_" His foot came up, knee to his chest, and then he sent the sole of his foot into the man's chest. He rolled with the hit, not fighting back but calmly getting back to his feet and returning.

_He's not normal! Get rid of him! Get rid of him!_

"I won't talk about it anymore, Lee," Gaara said softly, standing a short distance away, though directly in front of him. "But I want you to consider what I'm about to ask."

He sobbed again and tucked both legs up to his body, one arm tight around his calves and the other in his hair, pulling and tugging harshly, ripping strands free and trying to relieve some of the pressure, some of the emotions, some of the _nothing_ he could get rid of.

_He's only going to hurt you if you don't hurt him first! The vial, there's a cross on the lid, isn't there? That's not made of glass, it can stab him. Rip up his pretty little face! Make him _scream_ like you have._

"Do you want to listen to a voice that's telling you to hurt others?"

That…

That was…

Lee's sobs quieted. He brought his hand out of his hair and looked at the random black strands that had caught between his fingers.

The voice screamed again and the pain got worse, burrowing into his very core, and he stopped breathing in at the intensity of it, wrenching forward. His knees collided against the wooden floor first, causing another flash of agony throughout his body, and then he managed to catch his upper body on one arm. The arm buckled and then folded, straining his shoulder as his arm went at an odd angle.

_You're mine! WHORE. SODOMIST! Break, break, BREAK!_

Lee bit into his bottom lip. It gushed blood into his mouth and down his chin and he wondered, distantly, as if watching it happen to someone else, if he was really biting _that_ hard to cause _that_ much spillage. "H-hurts…" he wheezed, hands clenched loosely into fists. He tried to squeeze them tight and firm, but his muscles protested, his bones rejected the idea, and his nerves were far too busy running amuck, caught on fire, to care.

His single point of comfort, soothingly warm like lazing around on a beach on a good summer day, was a hand that gently brushed over the back of his head, grazed his forehead, and then whipped past the corner of his eye as its twin hand went to the bed and grasped the vial.

Father Sabaku began to chant something – in a different tongue, Lee thought.

Maybe.

The moment Father Sabaku's hand closed into a fist, though, Lee stopped thinking. The agony, there was no thinking past it. He was suffering more than he could ever remember, feeling as if the man was literally trying to tear one of his limbs clean off his body, except this limb was inside of him, in his core, and it… It _hurt_.

Everything hurt today. Everything had _stopped_ hurting till this man came along! But, then… Lee had only been pushing his pain onto the children, and he reduced his own yell of surprise and pain to whines and whimpers.

The voice was screaming, ranting, howling, snarling – Lee couldn't understand why, not through his own misery, but it was… It was almost welcomed. Because the voice wasn't _talking_.

And then a searing pain, skin boiling, and Lee stopped making any sound at all.

He choked, supposed, for a second, that he saw something in Father Sabaku's hand as he jerked his arm back, wriggling and wrinkly and ugly. Then his eyes rolled into the back of his head and he succumbed to the darkness he found there as well as to the tone of Father Sabaku's praying – undeniable, not asking but telling, and he wished he knew what Father Sabaku was saying.

It sounded beautiful.

~""~

_Author's Note: HOLY CRAP, this chapter is long! Or, at least, the longest so far… Sadly, this will be Lee's only appearance for awhile longer. For a story all about Lee, there doesn't seem to be a lot of him, does there? I post this now as an apology to the horror that is my one-shot, 'Their Little Shop of Horrors'. Apparently, it was much more potent than I thought it would be._


	7. Five: His Children

Chen, Samo, and En formed a crescent in the courtyard of the orphanage, too far away to catch a peek of what was happening or listen in on it, just as Father Sabaku had wanted.

And they didn't like it – not at all. They didn't like not knowing, not being able to help or fight or, well, do _anything_.

They felt useless and, not for the first time in their lives, cast aside.

Chen braided a crown made of whatever weeds were nearest her, some with blooms and other prickly. It didn't help take her mind off the situation at all.

Instead, all she could think about were the times Lee would sit her down in the grass, just like this, and help her braid crowns and necklaces and rings from whatever was lying on the ground. He had been the one to teach her to macramé and crochet. When she had wanted to climb trees with the other boys but hadn't had the strength to pull herself up, he had been the one behind her, hoisting her onto her shoulders and not letting her fall.

She bit hard into her bottom lip and her hands shook. The flowers shook apart and fell into her lap, drooping.

"D-do you think Lee will be okay?" she asked the other two.

Samo, who didn't look all that certain himself as he stared at, but didn't read, his Bible, frowned severely at its pages. "Of course! I mean, we have a guardian angel now and he's in there making sure that Lee's protected against evil!"

"He's not a guardian angel."

Samo and Chen turned a dark look on En, who sat beneath the shade of an oriental cherry blossom tree.

En frowned, as if he could feel the intensity of their stares, and shifted uneasily. "Well, he's not."

"He saved your life!" Samo barked.

"Yeah…"

"Only guardian angels could be that quick," Chen seconded, backing up Samo's logic. "He came when we needed him most."

"Yeah… But he's still not a guardian angel."

"Then what is he?" Samo bit out, scowling.

En shrugged, a small smile crossing his face. "Just human, I guess."

"Then what was with your 'we've been waiting a really long time for you' thing?"

"We have been! Or, well… It's _felt_ like a really long time…" En shifted again, cupping his hands together over his knees and giving them a doubtful look through pale, sightless eyes.

Chen spoke up now. "But you looked at him… weird."

"Weird?" En cocked his head and stuck out his bottom lip thoughtfully. Then his face lit up with realization. "Oh, yeah! His rosary!"

Chen and Samo gave each other a dry look. Someone carrying around a rosary wasn't new news to them, but En's expression was so quick to turn to affection that they didn't have it in them to question him about it.

As it turned out, they didn't have to.

En reached down his shirt and pulled out his own rosary, made from plastic bits and with the aide of Lee, who had blessed the water they had proceeded to purify their rosaries in. He had said that, since he was no priest, the rosaries hadn't actually been purified, but all the orphans that had ever had their rosaries purified in Lee's Holy Water never seemed to come to any ill end.

Unlike his near-death experience – but he had been saved at the very last moment, and that was a far cry better than those who did not get that one single moment more. Like those baptized in church; they, for some reason, met ill ends regularly. It was almost like a curse, but people kept coming back anyway.

En's smile grew. "His rosary was really, really warm. It felt like someone was hugging me."

"Are you talking about him holding you after he saved her?" Chen asked, confused.

"No, that's not what I… Never mind."

"No, you can't just do that! What do you mean? It's not fair to just let us hang like that!"

Samo interrupted her with a sweetly curious tone and an even more pressing question. "How'd you know he was here to save Lee?"

En paused and then slowly opened his mouth.

The back door creaking anciently open stopped him from saying a word, though, and the three spun around towards the noise.

Standing in the doorway was Father Sabaku. He looked even more tired than when they had first met him and the bandages around his one hand were loosely knotted, possibly even a new set of gauze altogether, and he stumbled a step before he caught himself and strode fluidly towards them.

Samo and Chen threw En an awed look because, to their utter shock, En had been right – Father Sabaku was nothing more than a man.

Even guardian angels in disguise could never be so exhausted.

"It's done," were the first words he said to them once he was close enough, looming over them like a black shadow splashed crimson. "We need to move him now so that we can cleanse his room."

"Cleanse his room?" Chen mimicked curiously. "How do we do that?"

Father Sabaku answered very calmly, "We clean it. And then we bless it."

"Okay," Samo said, "but we can't use Bishop Shimura's Holy Water." He looked wearily around before gesturing for Father Sabaku to lean down. Once the priest had, Samo put his mouth next to his ear and whispered, loud enough for only them to hear, "I think it's not Holy."

Father Sabaku pulled back and gave Samo an unsurprised look. "Why do you think that?" he asked nonetheless.

"Because it doesn't repel bad things."

Chen nodded in agreement and En frowned at remembering how close he had come to death. Tremors moved in from his core to the tips of his fingers and toes as he could see the demon coming at him, something he couldn't describe because he had never _seen_ anything before to compare it to, feel the tar against his palms and knees, feel the vibrations of the oncoming car, hear its engine and the screech of its wheels…

He shuddered and shook his head, clenching and unclenching his hands in his lap.

Father Sabaku nodded solemnly. "I understand. It's a good thing I can bless my own water." Then, "before we clean his room, we're going to have to move him."

"… Move him?" Chen tilted her head suspiciously. "Can't Lee move himself? He can, can't he? There's nothing wrong with him because you saved him, _right_?"

Father Sabaku reached out and put a finger to the tip of her nose, gently shushing her. "He's asleep. He's been through a great ordeal and won't wake up for awhile. So we need to put him somewhere else while we cleanse his room."

En blindly reached out and discovered Samo's wrist. Following it up Samo's arm with his own hands, he managed to hoist himself close to the other boy's side and then nudge his elbow into Samo's side.

Samo, luckily, got the hint, and gave a cheek-splitting grin. "He can sleep in our room!"

Father Sabaku nodded. "Good." He stood to his feet.

As if caught by a sudden thought, he looked down at them with something hidden behind his eyes. "Where is Lee's roommate?"

They all three looked at each other, though En more or less couldn't meet their gazes directly.

Samo was the first to shrug and reply, "Lee doesn't have one."

Chen added, "Yeah, because Lee's the oldest and he gets a room all to himself."

"The oldest orphan here?" Father Sabaku's back was to them, hands loose at his sides – but something in his voice was sharp enough to cut glass, somewhere beneath layers of raspy tones and gravelly inflections. "How old is he?"

"He's seventeen," Samo said. "He'll be turning eighteen in November." He didn't sound thrilled and none of them looked the least bit happy at this fact.

They all knew that, once Lee was eighteen, he would be kicked out of the orphanage into the world. He could possibly still come by to visit them, but he wouldn't be right down the hall anymore, or be able to teach them how to do the things he did because he wasn't a nun or a priest and, without being either, he wasn't allowed to volunteer at the orphanage.

En shuffled his feet and Chen looked away. Samo settled into a moody silence.

"I see…" Father Sabaku tilted his head back for a moment and looked up into the clear blue, cold sky. Chen and Samo watched him as he stood there in a hush. Then he began walking away, and Samo dragged En after him as they followed, Chen with them.

"We'll move Lee to your room for tonight."

"Tonight?"

"Yes. He won't be waking up for awhile."

Chen balked. "How long's _awhile_?"

"Long enough," Father Sabaku answered and stepped to the side at the same time, letting them file in before he shut the door.

"Father Sabaku…" Chen paused, then continued. "Was Lee possessed?"

The world held its breath. Or, maybe more truthfully, the three children around Father Sabaku did. The other orphans were worried too, of course, to some lower extent, but, nonetheless. They would want to know too, because Lee had loved them as much, or nearly as much, as he had Chen, Samo, and En.

For the moment, though, it was just the three of them, terrified beyond all belief.

"… No." A shadow past his expression. "He was too strong for that."

And that breath was released in relief.

"So… what was wrong with him?" Samo asked.

"He was being influenced by a demon."

"Yeah, well, I guess he lost to _that_." Samo scowled and thought of all the things Lee had been throwing at them lately, the habits he had been keeping and the state of his hygiene and room.

The corner of Father Sabaku's lips twitched almost proudly – almost, but not quite. "No. He was too strong for that too."

Chen and Samo looked about to argue that, but En squeezed Samo's arm and managed to find Chen's hand at the same time, drawing their attention to him.

He smiled slightly. "Trust him. It's the truth."

~""~

_Author's Note: Something Jariyasea said in reply to the last chapter: "_He's mine! You can't take him from me, HE'S MINE!.Gaara cracking his knuckles "thats MY line"._"_ _That cracked me up like you wouldn't believe._


	8. Six: Man of God

It was later that night, as Bishop Shimura was reading from the Good Book in the flickering candlelight, his church cast into a quiet darkness around him, that he heard a small, obscure sound that shouldn't have been.

He didn't so much startle as roll his eye surreptitiously around the nave and pews, hands gripping a little harder at his Bible.

The double doors that led into his cathedral, which he had locked hours ago, drifted closed silently on well-oiled hinges. Even then, they clicked shut almost deafeningly.

His breathing became the slightest bit harsher. "The cathedral is closed. Whoever has entered against the will of the Lord, leave in peace and return to whence you came."

Then, under his breath, he spat, "_Street filth_."

It wasn't the first time someone had managed to pick the doors' locks, as it were. And, though he spoke in a manner that could even be stretched to include otherworldly intruders such as demons, he doubted very much that such creatures would bother to use human ways of entrance.

That was, if they could get in at all.

No, no… It was usually those out to steal from his cathedral, or the faithful homeless that were desperate to sleep under the eye of God, that bothered to barge in without invitation.

By the first time it had happened, Bishop Shimura had already been sick of it. Now he had a gun in the compartment of the podium. God may be all powerful, but he, Bishop Shimura, found that a pistol was much more persuasive in the ways of forcing the unwanted out of his territory.

Then he heard the clacking of heels on tile, which floored the two aisles on either side of the nave. The noise echoed in the large space and he flicked his eye from one aisle to the other, trying to discern a shape from the shadows.

When he could, finally, make something out, it was red.

His one eye narrowed distastefully.

"You're not one for talking much, are you?" he quipped as he snapped his Bible shut. "You could at least announce yourself at the doors."

Father Sabaku emerged into the candlelight, or, at the least, into the very distant reaches of its glow, and sat down in the pew closest to the main alter. His pale skin and vibrant hair made it easier to identify him, but, with the space between them, most of his other features were hidden.

"Forgive me," he said once he was situated, in a voice that held neither apology nor mockery, making it difficult to understand what he was thinking. "I've been thinking."

"That's dangerous." Bishop Shimura wondered briefly if he should turn on the lights, and then thought against it. It would take nearly five minutes for the dangling ceiling lights, as large and many as they were, to fully illuminate the room. He was vainly hoping that this conversation, wherever it was leading, would be over with long before then.

"How so?"

"When one is subservient to a woman, one should not think _at all_." He gave Father Sabaku a very sage look. "You see, in this day and age, women have grown so opinionated as to despise men who do not share the same views as them. If you want to live peacefully with your Arch-Bishop, it would be in your best interests to lose your mind now."

"… I see." Father Sabaku let another stretch of silence follow. Then, "My job here isn't done."

Bishop Shimura narrowed his eye at him. "It's not? I thought you were the best at your work?"

"I am." Father Sabaku leaned forward and Bishop Shimura heard a shifting of fabric as he changed positions. "I'm almost done."

With the poor lighting, he could only get the faintest visual of what appeared to be Father Sabaku with his hands steepled over his chin. But the sensation of being stared at was strong and he caressed the engraved lettering on the cover of his Bible comfortingly.

This man had unnerved him by daylight; at night, Father Sabaku was something far more indescribable.

"Is that so? What else is there to do?" Then, just to play nice, "Is it possible that Lee was indeed possessed?"

"No," was the answer again, and then nothing.

A fissure of dawning fear raced up Bishop Shimura's spine. On the tail of that fear came the slightest sensation of something evil, something _not right_, and he forced himself not to acknowledge the feeling of small, sharp hands digging into his chest. No, he would be alright, his faith would not fail him. Surely, there was something that could be done, something that could be _said_…

He stared at the face of his Bible and thought quickly. "Is it… that he was having delusions again?"

"Delusions, Bishop Shimura?"

"Yes. You see, Lee suffers from mental sickness. He raves about things that make no sense." He sighed a sigh of a man with no idea left of what to do. "And he says terrible untruths about me and other members of the Church."

"What things?"

"Things I can't repeat, Father Sabaku. But, if I _were_ to, I would say that one such thing would be that he accuses us Holy men of sodomy." He let that sink in for a moment and searched for Father Sabaku's reaction. If there was one, he couldn't see it. "If he were not so dear to the other orphans, I would have had him moved to a Psych Ward long ago."

"I've heard that he'll be turning eighteen in November. Wouldn't you want to get him help for his mental sickness while it can be provided for him instead of when he can not provide it for himself?"

Bishop Shimura frowned. "You see… I was planning on starting a fundraiser for his benefit. He has been very beneficial to the Church ever since we have taken him in."

"Why didn't you tell me any of this earlier?"

"I… That is, I didn't know you well enough to give away such personal information about one of my followers. Now that you've met him, however, I guess it's best you learn."

Father Sabaku said nothing in reply to this.

So, Bishop Shimura added, in a lower, more concerned tone of voice, "Is Lee okay now?"

"To an extent."

"I'll go visit him, then. There are obviously some things we need to discuss."

Now he knew he was being stared at. Hard. His very soul felt seared by the intensity of it.

"I understand, Bishop Shimura." He stood to his feet and took the nave back towards the door. Within seconds, Bishop Shimura could not tell him from the blackness that surrounded him. "We'll be meeting again soon."

Once the doors opened and shut behind him, Bishop Shimura sneered and clenched his fists around his Bible. "Little hellion."

It was obvious that the priest knew more than he was letting on. But how much did he know? Had Lee told him something? Had he come to assume something for himself?

A buzzing began in his ears and he shook his head fervently to get rid of it. No, no, no… Father Sabaku could be as strange and unsettling as he pleased, but Bishop Shimura would not be threatened. God would see into his soul and know that he had done no wrong, and God would do what was best for him, His loyal and honorable son.

The buzzing ceased and Bishop Shimura blew out the candle, enveloping the cathedral in complete darkness. By memory, he all but flew out of the church, barely taking time to lock the doors behind him.

Yes, Father Sabaku did no more than he was letting on, that much was obvious. Bishop Shimura didn't doubt for a second that Father Sabaku had bought his mental sickness story. But, for now, it would be enough to make doubt and Father Sabaku wouldn't be able to make a case against him, if it so happened that Lee had said anything about their _nightly activities_.

That, however, could be easily disproven with the right tests and questions. Lee, so close to being forced away from the children he protected with his very body, would no doubt squeal about Bishop Shimura if given the chance.

Bishop Shimura was going to have to make sure that he kept his mouth shut, just like he had made sure with Naruto. They would _not_ destroy him! Homeless, abandoned _spawn_ that ate away at his cathedral's funds with grubby hands and muddy grins…

He held tight to his faith. No, he had never done any wrong, or, at the least, what he had done had not been wrong. He was a Holy man, had even met His Holiness upon occasion, and no sinner had ever had such a privilege. With God watching over him, all would be well.

He got into his car and drove.

No. If Lee wanted to confess, then he could get on his knees and beg for forgiveness for what he most likely was very close to doing.

And, perhaps, Bishop Shimura would forgive him. If he begged properly.


	9. Seven: Just Desserts

As he had memorized his way through the darkness of his cathedral, so had he learned his way through the bleak, cramped spaces of the orphanage.

Old, rickety stairs, weary, thin floorboards, creaky, aged doors – not a peep came out of any of them as Bishop Shimura swept through. The nuns, with their inane hearing, didn't stir a bit at his intrusion; or, if they did, they didn't bother to investigate.

By now, though, Bishop Shimura should be as silent and well-learned as a ghost chained to these rooms and florally designed walls.

He slipped into Lee's room and locked the door behind himself. With a moment's thought, he decidedly flipped on the light switch. Here, in this room with Lee, there was no need for darkness. It wouldn't bother any of the other residents and he would be able to see the teenager's expressions much more easily.

The first thing he noticed as his eyes adjusted was that Lee's room was cleaner than it had been in awhile. Things were where they were supposed to be, objects weren't thrown haphazardly across the floor, and the _floor_, for that matter, had been swept and mopped free of all fluids, either drug-related or bodily rejected.

The air smelled fresher, something that he had missed.

However, instead of the Lee he had come to enjoy, the one with hazy eyes, flushed cheeks, and a loose, hot body, was someone else entirely, and Bishop Shimura cursed under his breath as his heart stuttered at the unsuspecting sight.

"Where _aren't_ you tonight?" And how had he gotten there so quickly? Bishop Shimura knew, just _knew_ that, in his Toyota Celica GT-4, there was no way he could have been outraced, even with the few minutes head start.

Then again, he hadn't seen another car on the road as he had speeded to the orphanage, and that didn't assuage him in the least to know.

Father Sabaku held a worn Bible in his lap, sitting in a chair opposite Lee's (empty) bed. He didn't look up from its pages at him, and he rolled and palmed his prayer beads lazily near his ear, the elbow of the same hand balanced on the chair's arm.

From where Bishop Shimura stood, he could see writing in the Bible; handwriting.

That was Lee's Bible, the one that Bishop Shimura had threatened to burn some years back. How _dare_ Lee deface the Good Book with the scrawling and blotches of a mere mortal's penmanship? That had been his reasoning, and he had been disgusted at the Sisters for letting Lee go about with such a thing and Lee had sobbed pitifully as Bishop Shimura had held the Bible over the fireplace.

But Lee had earned his Good Book back, and its safety, as he had earned everything else from Bishop Shimura.

Now, watching Father Sabaku study the words that weren't typed, the misspellings and hopes and dreams and hellos and goodbyes that had tainted the parchment in shades of colored pencil and crayon and ink and lead, made him wish that he had denied Lee the chance to earn that back in particular.

"Father Sabaku," he called in a low, tight voice, "I would like very much to know what you're doing here. Weren't you supplied a room elsewhere?"

"Yes," the redhead murmured. Then said nothing. The rubbing and crackling of his prayer beads filled the silence between them.

"… Then why aren't you _there_?" he prompted. He felt humiliated beyond belief that he could be so ignored by someone of a lower status than himself. And this man was subservient to a _woman_. It was nearly more than he could bear.

Father Sabaku retorted, in a drone voice, "I wanted to talk to you."

"I thought we were done talking at Church. Or was that a pre-discussion to this one?"

"You could call it that." He flipped through the pages, going backwards, and then once situated, finally flickered his gaze towards Bishop Shimura. His unwavering eyes held him still and not a single emotion showed as the clinking and clanking of his rubbing beads slowed to a stop. "You don't look well."

Of course he wouldn't look _well_. This heathen, this _spawn of Satan_, wouldn't leave him alone! He was there, constantly, had been ever since he had arrived in Bishop Shimura's town, and he always seemed to know just how to alarm him, how to make him lose his edge and fall that much deeper into irritation and aggression and hostility.

His one hand fisted at his side as he kept his face slack. "I'm not feeling that well. This post-discussion can wait, can't it? I'll send for you first thing in the morning once I'm feeling better…" He turned to unlock the door.

He needed to think up another strategy. He needed to think of how to get Father Sabaku out of his territory, away from him and the orphanage and Lee. He needed him away from the _truth_, and Bishop Shimura needed to regroup.

"It won't wait," Father Sabaku said sternly, and froze Bishop Shimura in his tracks like a naughty child that had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. "I want to talk to you about the past accusations against you."

"_What_ accusations?" he hissed, out of good humor. "I can assure you, my file is clean."

"Thirty-two years ago, a twelve-year old boy complained to his mother that the priest at his local church was touching his private parts," Father Sabaku said in a clipped, unfeeling tone, as if reading the very words he was saying from the back of his eyes. "No charges were pressed, however, after a large sum of money appeared in the mother's admittedly lacking bank account.

Fifteen years ago, a nine-year old boy went missing after telling his dad that the priest at his local church, twenty miles South of the first local church, forced him to do sexual acts. The dad admitted to not believing his son and confiding in the accused priest; it was the next morning that the son turned up missing. The son did not reappear for three weeks, at such a time that he arrived on his own doorstep, refusing to speak about what had happened. To this day, he has remained mute due to the traumatic experience.

Four years ago –"

"_What_ are you getting at?" Bishop Shimura hissed, heart hammering in his chest. He felt cornered, powerless, and, strangest of all, _in pain_. As if tiny claws and small teeth were slowly chewing away at his insides…

He grabbed onto the rosary around his throat, reminded himself that he was a true man of God, and what he had done, it had not been wrong.

He was incapable of doing wrong. He was, after all, a Bishop, Holier than those that followed him. God himself had carved his being into existence to mirror His own, and he had been made near perfectly.

The pain abated as his doubt dissipated.

He had done nothing wrong. Even if he was found guilty, no mere human could be his Judge, no one but God could be that, and God would welcome him warmly home.

"Four years ago," Father Sabaku repeated patiently, without mercy, "a boy was discovered in Saint Luke's Hospital, held against his will in the Psych Ward. Interestingly enough, he wasn't mentally ill or self-abusive or a danger to society; there was nothing wrong with him at all. When asked why he had been put there, he talked about a Bishop that had 'put him away' so that 'he would shut his mouth'."

Bishop Shimura stared blankly back at him as he quietly closed the Bible. "What do you _want_ from me, Father Sabaku?"

"We're going to decide what to do with you," Father Sabaku answered. "No matter what decision we come to, three things will be certain:

One, you will resign from the Church.

Two, you will atone for your sins.

Three, you will never commit such crimes as you have again."

Bishop Shimura raised a shaking hand to his face and stole a deep breath. Ah, the pain had returned… But he was a man of God and he would prevail.

And then he began laughing, just, just _amused_ by the naivety of the mere _boy_ before him. "And how do you plan to enforce those? I have done nothing wrong and you won't find a soul to testify otherwise. Naruto? He's been in a Psych Ward for the past six years! And Lee –"

"I never told you that his name was Naruto," Father Sabaku cut him off, and then corrected, "And it's only been four years. He was released from Saint Luke's two years ago. The public would be interested in his story, how the Church quieted his complaints by labeling him clinically insane. His Holiness would hear about it and he would know your name for the last time."

He put his rosary to his lips and just _stared_. He stared as Bishop Shimura's breathing became more ragged.

But he was a man of God. Yes, God would be his only judge, and God would welcome him into His arms where he had earned a place to be….

"Lee will dispute everything Naruto says," he snarled. "If he wants his _precious children_ to sleep safely at night, he will keep his mouth shut! Or else he knows what will happen to them."

Father Sabaku didn't say anything, nor did his expression change, but Bishop Shimura somehow felt encouraged. It could have been because his head was buzzing again or because he felt the faintest shimmering of something like adrenaline. For whatever reason, he kept talking.

He grinned voraciously. His blood was boiling, eating away at his insides and flesh, and a cold sweat broke out across his forehead as his fists shook at his sides. "He knows. He goes through it _every week_. Where were you then, _Father_, to save him? When he prayed every night that a savior would come, not realizing I was just at the door behind him?"

_Yes, yes, and then what, Bishop Shimura? Tell him about how you shattered that little no one's dreams, about how you threw him on the bed he prayed on and fucked him raw for thinking that God would listen to such a lowly being as him. Tell him everything._

Yes, he thought to himself. He _should_ tell Father Sabaku everything. Wouldn't it be wonderful, to watch that stoic expression crumble into revulsion and then into hardly refrained want? No man could deny that the fantasy of a youthful, tight body around their member had never crossed their minds, that tears and confusion and dark, pained eyes had never enticed them!

He, as a man of God, would know all about the trappings of the devil, and how he lured the lustful to Hell with scantily clad bait and wanton cries. But he was a _true_ man of God and such trappings had always eluded him. Never would he fall, _never_.

And he never had, he had never doubted himself, and yet, here was a scrap of a pretender trying to tell him what to do! No one had ever dared before, except for that _whore_, Arch-Bishop Senju, but she had never gotten anywhere with her accusations and testy remarks…

_He's threatening everything you are. And it makes you _doubt_ yourself, don't it? Your faith's crumbling the more he yaps and he'll never shut up, not as long as he knows you're listening. God may be your judge, but this mere slip of a _boy_ is going to condemn you to humiliation here on earth. You can't commit suicide to go into His arms sooner than you're wanted, can you? And you're too old to live peacefully in jail. You can hope that you'll be killed there, but you'll be tortured first._

_No one takes pity on a pedophile._

"The first time it happened," he was saying, and his mind couldn't even connect to his mouth to stop himself as the words spilled out. A dam had broken and the truth was overflowing, drowning him, sweeping him away, and Father Sabaku wouldn't. Stop. _Staring_. "I remember the first time it happened with Lee, he was younger then, twelve, and I – he caught me with Naruto, and Naruto was so _tainted_. God would not have cared for his sacrifice, He was the one who had punished Naruto first, leaving him alone in the world…

Lee didn't cry, not the first time, no, he was, he tried to, he _bit_ me, and that hurt and I, he bled and I told the Sisters to stay away from his room and I, _yes_, I had him for _days_ and Naruto too and they were… They were…"

He frowned. Slowly, he raised his hands and touched his temples. He swayed and barely caught himself from falling.

He felt odd, as if he wasn't entirely within his body anymore. His skin wasn't his, his body wasn't there, and he was desensitized against his own touch. Cold. Yet, somehow, itchy.

It took him a moment to realize that he was smirking, his lips stretched wide and thin over his teeth, a trickle of saliva coming from the corner of his mouth. He was wheezing, when had he started that?

Why was there blood underneath his fingernails? And why was his face wet? Ah, his temples were bleeding – but hadn't his hands just been on his temples?

The disorientation he was experiencing only grew worse as he realized he was still talking.

"… And you would have wanted to be there with them, _Gaara_."

That wasn't his voice, nor was it the way he addressed the other man, and yet, he couldn't bring himself to care. The strange sensation of not having his own body anymore grew more and more intense till he thought he would disappear into nothing.

And then something grabbed him, sharp, piercing him, and he saw them – little things. Little _creatures_ with huge, milky white eyes and small horns atop their disproportional heads. Their claws and talons were catching on him, dragging him back, and they gnashed their little, pointy teeth as their cloven hooves trampled on him and their forked tails cut into him like blades and –

They began _eating_ him!

Vaguely, around the agony of being devoured alive, he realized that he was _still_ talking.

But it wasn't him at all, and the eyes that saw Father Sabaku were strange, not human, and the world was in shades of black and red.

His body moved forward, staggered more like, before his one leg gave out, fell _off_, and the voice that wasn't his laughed cruelly. _"This body is so weak. It can not support my full being!"_ Then his head snapped up, beastly like, and focused on Father Sabaku, who had yet to move. Who had yet to speak.

Who had yet to blink.

The voice that wasn't his sighed disdainfully. _"Why are you so stubborn, brother? Come on, let's be one again." _ He could feel the monstrous smirk that spread across his face, even as he knew he was no longer controlling his facial muscles. _"Like when we were born."_

Father Sabaku stared down at him for an impossibly long moment.

Bishop Shimura's arm fell off and, through the pain of little teeth and nails ripping him to shreds, he saw Father Sabaku reach into his cassock and pull out a pistol.

He wrapped his rosary around the barrel of it and ignored the hateful frown that passed Bishop Shimura's lips as he spoke a simple goodbye.

"Go back to Hell and take Danzou with you."

The pain ended suddenly, thankfully, almost as soon as he saw distantly Father Sabaku's finger pull back on the trigger.

For awhile, he drifted in darkness. It was warm, not uncomfortably humid, and it was as if he was swaddled in blankets as a sense of peace and safety overcame him. God's love was more than he could have ever imagined it to be.

That euphoria ended with an enraged roar that was entirely inhuman and claws grabbed him, thick, long, curving claws that pierced his shoulders through and through and dragged him downwards as if through layers of ice and lava.

When it all stopped, he could see again, and what he saw was a gigantic monstrosity with yellow-golden eyes and a horde of small demons dancing on its sloping, heavy shoulders.

They stared at each other; for how long, Bishop Shimura didn't know. _Couldn't_ know. His terror grew as the beast nurtured its own apparent rage.

But he was a man of _God_! How had he ended up down here? This was obviously no angel, and this was obviously not Heaven. How had he ended up here? Had there been a mistake? He hadn't done anything wrong!

Then it spoke and its voice caused Bishop Shimura to scream as his ears bled at the terrifying sound. "Well?" it growled at the demons prancing along its rolls of fat.

"Aren't you all going to finish eating him?"

~""~

_Author's Note: What a morbid chapter… I had to rewrite it a few times; I couldn't make it feel right any other way. I hope you managed to survive reading this! Now I have to figure out what to do next…_


	10. Eight: He Belongs to the Children

Between helping Chen create an endless amount of floral crowns and reading to the other orphans from his Bible in the courtyard, Lee hadn't had a lot of time to think about his very strange morning.

For instance, when he had first woken up; why had his head hurt so much? And why had Samo and En cried and thrown themselves at him? Where had the past few weeks gone? Why had the nuns scolded him for drug and alcohol use? Lee would _never_… and his memory had been so hazy, was still hazy, but it had been much more painful to think earlier that day than now.

And then, when he had tried to go to his own room, who had been the two men outside his door? They hadn't let him in, saying something about faulty pipes or weak points in the floor; cleansing the area and then finishing off their list of reasons with gratitude. One had clapped him on the shoulder and told him that they needed more people with such a strong faith as his around. The other had handed him his Bible, telling him that their superior had known that he would want it.

Lee had been more confused than anything, but they had seemed nice enough, so he had grudgingly allowed them to steer him away from his room.

Then the children had kidnapped him; breakfast had been moved outside because everyone had wanted to be near him and the long table in the dining hall wouldn't have allowed for the close contact they desired. After breakfast, the nuns had retreated, but the children had stayed.

Every one of them wore a floral crown, and the few extras had been thrown up into the cherry blossom tree, much to the delight of the girls. They thought it made the naked tree look prettier. The boys, on the other hand, were wondering why the weeds had outlived all the other pants, and some of them only wore the crowns for one of two ones:

One, because Lee was wearing three of them perched on top of each other, and he looked happy about it.

Or, two, because Samo and En would glare at them. After all, Lee and Chen had been the ones to make them.

The second oldest of the group, age fifteen, left after a few hours, but everyone else, twelve and below, only pressed closer.

Lee didn't understand it in the least. They acted as if he had been gone for half their lives! Then again, it would have helped had he had a clue of what had happened over the past few weeks, but his mind only drew up a blank.

He set aside his Bible when one of the younger girls produced a book of her own, _Myths and Legends of Japan_. The other children fretted at the image of a raccoon with the torso of a tea kettle on the cover.

"The Sisters will get angry if you read that," one of the older boys whispered harshly. "That's about a fake religion!"

The girl lowered her head ashamedly.

He smiled and patted her shoulder. She looked up at him through her lashes, still downcast, till she saw that he wasn't angry. "It is alright. Even though it is not our religion, that does not mean we should ignore it. How much sense does that make, to be so close-minded?"

They thought about it for a long moment.

Samo, appearing somewhat thoughtful and otherwise confused, answered, "Not a lot…?"

"That is right!" He ruffled Samo's hair and the boy, as he smoothed the tresses back into place, beamed. "If the Sisters want to get angry, they will just have to be angry with me." He winked conspiringly at them and they all pressed forward, excited.

The literature they were allowed to read was very limited, exclusively Catholic, and, however the girl got the book, whether or not she borrowed it from a friend outside of Church or possibly from one of the other members, it was new to them.

To Lee, not so much. Naruto had had a skill for smuggling in comic books. The memory made Lee smile sadly. He really missed Naruto, more than he would ever be able to express, but at least he was carrying on their duty, and he turned his smile to the other children that he and Naruto had always tried to protect.

His smile slowly slipped away. Fear crept in. Who was going to protect them after he left?

"Lee?"

He jolted and looked to his side. En, squished against him with Samo leaning against his other shoulder, frowned up at him. "Aren't you going to read?"

Chen added, from where her head was lying on Lee's other hip, "Yeah, aren't you?"

He stole a shuddering breath. God, he needed a miracle. "Yes! Yes, of course I am going to read to you all." He wouldn't get many more chances like these. Not unless the Sisters allowed him, or, even less likely, unless Bishop Shimura gave him permission to.

He opened to the first story, holding the book with slightly shaky hands. En's warm hand came to rest over one, stilling it, and Lee smiled thankfully at the boy who could not even see to appreciate the gesture. Chen wrapped her small fingers around his other wrist and watched him with concern, but he said nothing about it.

"_The Badger and the Magic Fan_," he read the title aloud to them and felt one of the children shake excitedly against his calf. "Long ago in Japan, there were three children with a very special fan…"

Later that night, after he relieved the nuns of their less appreciated task, tucking in the numerous boys and girls who wanted nothing more than to stay up just _five more minutes_ (five more minutes that would multiply into five more that somehow would become five hours and then, gosh, the sun was coming up already?), he retreated to his own room, shut the door quietly behind him, and took another long moment to realize that he was in _his_ room.

He turned and studied it. His room looked… like his room. There was nothing extraordinary about it, or damaged, or anything that could suggest that anything had been wrong with it to require fixing, aside from a few battered objects. Most likely, and he thought of the little he had managed to wheedle from his little roost of chicks, they had been the things he had damaged himself.

Lee sighed unhappily and shouldered his way into his pajamas before trudging off to bed. There was a moment where he hesitated, as he always hesitated, before he got down on his knees and retrieved his rosary from around his neck. He threw a cautious look at the door, shifted a bit, and then bowed his head in prayer.

Blindly, he reached out and his hand curled around his Bible, fingertips dipping to trace the earmarks and crinkling of the pages. He came to a familiar sensation, a missing corner, and flipped open the book.

He didn't have to open his eyes to know whose signature was splashed across the two pages, yellow crayon traced back and forth and back again until every scratch and line was thick and glossy, no matter faded with age.

_NarUtO waz HERE!_

He clasped his hands together, tightly, and his forehead touched the pages. He could smell the musty paper, the faintest whiff of wax, and a multitude of other stubborn things.

Lee prayed for the children, as he always did, and he prayed for Naruto, like he always did, and he prayed for his friends and their happiness.

His teardrops wetted the paper. His shoulders shook the slightest bit. Yes. They would need a miracle for his prayers to come true, a quick one. He finished sullenly with an "Amen", and tried to remind himself that the world wasn't going to end. Even though it somewhat felt like that.

He gave the door another weary look. Still closed. The knob wasn't turning. He stole a deep breath, counted off the things he was blessed to have – _my friends, the time I had with Naruto, the Sisters who appreciate me, the children who I protect and cherish, curry, the people I have met, my Bible, God_ – and ran his fingertip along the edges of Naruto's childish handwriting.

It had been the first note to ever be scribbled into his book. Where one went, others were bound to follow, and they had.

Gently closing his Bible, he tucked it to his chest as he slipped into bed. He turned off his bedside lamp, paused as it dawned on him that it wasn't the same one he had owned before, and then turned over to stare blearily at the wall. There was a stain there, unfamiliar, in small, random splotches. Like something had been splattered.

He wished direly he could find someone who could give him a straight answer of what happened over the past few weeks.

Lee's eyes drifted close as a whisper of a voice touched his ear.

_What about the children…_

He pushed the voice away, not caring for the weakness it made him feel, and mentally snarled.

The children would be _fine_. No matter what he had to do to make sure of it.

~::~

_Author's Note: Lee returns! LordLuciola made a picture for this story and it made me want to update…_


	11. Nine: Passing On

The news, when it came, caused havoc in the cathedral.

"I am sorry to inform the loyal members of this Church that a life was lost of which can never be replaced…"

Bishop Shimura had been missing for the last five days, much to the chagrin of his followers and to Lee's building anxiety. Yes, he was glad, so very happy, that Bishop Shimura had not been violating and demeaning him – but, then, who was he with?

Lee couldn't remember being visited last week, which was even stranger than the Bishop's disappearance as weekly visitations were the very least he would do when using Lee. In his defense, he couldn't remember being visited the week before that, but this was different. He had actually been told that Bishop Shimura had not been to the orphanage in the past nine days.

He rubbed a hand over his face, exhausted beyond belief because his waking moments had extended well into the night and had begun to start very early in the mornings. In the past three days, he had gotten a total of four hours of sleep.

"A Holy man was taken from your arms into the Lord's where he shall be rewarded for his actions here on earth…"

Lee blearily came into focus, waiting. Without his knowledge, he was swaying from side to side. He hadn't eaten anything since yesterday morning.

He was not even living anymore, but existing in a constant state of paranoia.

"May the Lord cherish him as we all had. Now, let us pray for his safe passage."

He somehow managed to realize that two men in cassocks were gently, and silently, ushering families into the confessional, one by one.

The first family came out, a mother and father and their five-year old son. The father was steely-faced, the mother in tears, and the son held his head down as his father had a hand wrapped tightly around the back of his neck. They left as fast as they could, weaving into the nave as if they wanted to go unnoticed.

The second family went in, a widow, an aunt, and another son.

When they came out, the aunt was not so subtle.

"MONSTER!" She thrust a finger towards the man who was speaking, a man who had forgone introducing himself. "YOU SPEAK SO HONORABLY OF A BEAST!" She was in tears, weeping, the widow holding onto her son as if she could protect him from what had already happened.

Lee had to look away. He didn't have to guess at what they were speaking of, and he thought, maybe, the name of the man who had passed away had been uttered in the beginning. A tangle of emotions arose in him as he knew exactly who had died now. So many things that his hands shook and his vision became unclear.

Oh, Gosh, Bishop Shimura was gone.

Even though that made him and all of the other boys safe, what exactly did that mean for him now? Because, hadn't his entire life been devoted to trying to keep Bishop Shimura away from the orphans?

He looked to his little roost of chicks and noticed, for the first time, their excitement among other things.

Chen caught his eye, frowned at whatever she saw in his expression, and then wrapped both of her hands around his. "It's okay, Lee. Even though Bishop Shimura's gone, we have Father Sabaku now!"

The man speaking, scarlet red hair carded low over his forehead and eyes heavy as if he hadn't slept since the day he had been born, stared apathetically back at the raving aunt.

"I don't know who you think I'm speaking of," the Father said in a low, husky voice, "but Cardinal Sarutobi has recently passed away due to reasons I can not discuss."

The aunt was held in shocked silence, as was everyone else.

"If you mean to curse Bishop Shimura," he went on to say, right through the astonishment of everyone gathered, including Lee's (how disorderly of this man to not say who they were gathered for!), "he was removed from the Church for his conduct nearly a week ago. He took his life not too long after." Then, as if he had said nothing about it, and as if the Cathedral itself had not exploded into dozens of voices that rose in disbelief and horror at the loss of their leader, he continued.

"My name is Father Sabaku,"

"He's the one that saved you from demons," Samo whispered to Lee, whose mouth fell open.

"But he is so young!" he whispered shrilly back.

The aunt, still frozen to her spot, had been grabbed by the widow and forced towards the door.

"As ordered by Cardinal Senju, recently appointed after the passing away of Cardinal Sarutobi, I am here to replace Bishop Shimura. I hope to not fail any of you." He bowed respectfully to a captive, enraged audience who felt he had already failed.

Lee's hands, both held tightly in three other pairs of little hands, grew cold as an older woman in the pew before him snarled, "What a horrid _boy_ to think he can replace the great and humble leader Bishop Shimura."

"No doubt," answered the old man at her side, "this horrid _boy_ will drag us all to Hell. Oh, how could the Church have seen fit to dismiss Bishop Shimura?" And Lee's stomach dropped.

"He lived for us," murmured a third voice, a woman he knew to be the elderly lady's sister, just as old and fixed in her ways, "and, when they took that away from him, he could not live. Poor man, to have to suffer in Hell for a crime the Church committed. It is enough to make me lose my faith in God!"

And he swore, for a moment, that his heart stopped.

Whatever Bishop Shimura had been, he had not been a man who lived for his people.

Lee's eyes traveled up from his clasped hands to the alter.

Father Sabaku was watching him with pale eyes that had seen far too much. Lee watched as he raised a hand to cross himself; a hand lightly bandaged with prayer beads wrapped loosely around it.

Somehow, that made Lee feel… and he managed a weak smile for the Holy man… safer. And his skin tingled in an odd pattern: over his wrists, the back of his head, across his temples, like a phantom touch.

His eyes narrowed thoughtfully. Had the priest's hands touched him?

Well, if Father Sabaku had been the one to save him…

An image came unbidden into his mind: something that wriggled and screeched and was wrinkly and ugly like slabs of clay rolled into one tiny, bulbous creature – and it hung from an un-bandaged, burned hand.

"Lee…?" En was frowning at him, hand over his speeding pulse. "Are you okay?"

He tore his eyes away from Father Sabaku. "Yes. Yes, I, I think I am!" Perhaps. Maybe. Nothing was certain.

He rubbed his one shoulder, then held. There were still scars there, scars as if small daggers had been stabbed into his flesh. Or it could have just been dagger-like claws.

~""~

_Author's Note: Jeepers, it's an UPDATE! Sorry to leave everyone hanging for so long. I lost interest in this story for awhile, so I took a break from it… I hope no one's too mad._


	12. Ten: Reunited Under God

"Lee, I would like a word with you."

He paused at the voice, Samo, Chen, and En coming to a stop with him. With them, the other orphans paused, ignoring the nuns that, in their grief, had very little patience for their disobedience. The three nuns hissed at the children closest to them to get to the van and they, upon seeing Lee's gentle smile, obeyed and left quickly.

His faithful trio was not so ready to leave, though, and they turned deaf ears on the nuns' squawking and blind eyes to their teary glares.

"Go on without me," he ushered them. He looked between them and the priest approaching him. His eyes settled on the worshipping gazes cast at the redheaded stranger from his three children.

He was almost jealous of that look.

"Go, go now," he whispered more hurriedly. One nun had stayed behind, tapping her heel irately against the floor, arms folded, and her meanest look on.

"We want to stay with you," Samo said.

"Yeah, we want to stay with you!" Chen parroted.

En just smiled at Father Sabaku as if he could see him, shocking Lee enough to make him gawk at the little boy.

"Hi, Father Sabauk," En chirped. "Lee's back to normal now! See?"

"Children!" the nun barked harshly. "Go, go, _now_."

"You better listen to her," Lee whispered conspiringly. He crouched down so he was level with them. "She might make you guys do extra chores if you stay behind any longer."

"Don't exclude yourself!" Her eyes narrowed dispassionately at him. "We are _all_ going. Now. Whatever this… man has to say to you, it can wait. He has no right to detain any of us." Her glare was red-hot. "Pretentious little boy."

Lee held back a flinch that Chen and En couldn't. He put an arm around both their shoulders, Samo leaning against his side. "It will just be a moment," he enquired softly with a bright smile and bright eyes and a light tone to top it off.

It was probably not the best time to look so happy, though, and her face was splashed red with rage.

"You little br-"

"As Lee says," Father Sabaku interjected calmly. "It will only take a moment. If I delay him at all, I can drive him back to the orphanage."

"You think you can come here and take over in a day, young man?" She looked utterly aghast. "Even God needed seven days to create the world! How dare you be so presumptuous?"

"I am no God. I am only a man spreading His word. If not me, then it would have been someone else. You've had no leader for a week and it shows in everyone's panic. Whether you can accept it or not, Bishop Shimura is gone and I am in his place. Now, I need to have a word with Lee."

The nun was shocked to silence.

For that matter, so was Lee.

Not his children, though. Chen and En were grinning as Samo's expression was one of delicious victory.

He found his voice again, somewhere in the back of his throat, and choked on it for a second before he could form words. "You three still need to go now, though. I do not believe I heard Father Sabaku mention any of you staying behind."

Three pleading faces turned towards the priest.

"Lee's right. You'll see him later."

"Fine," Samo grumbled. Victory turned to sour defeat as his shoulders slumped. Chen sniffed disdainfully and mumbled an affirmative as En hid his disappointment behind his dark-tinted glasses.

He pressed a kiss to their foreheads. "I shall be there soon, yes? Then we shall play games in the courtyard and read books and catch a quick nap! How does that sound?" The nap sounded especially exciting to him.

Bishop Shimura was dead.

He was never coming back.

Lee and the children were _safe_.

And, though he felt equal parts of elation and relief, there was also dark foreboding. Gosh, what was he going to do now? Live, apparently, but how? What for? That had been his entire purpose for so many years…

He could bring awareness to Holy figures abusing their positions and their religion by taking advantage of their followers. Bishop Shimura had mentioned such groups before, condemning them for tainting Catholicism and accusing Holy men of terrible acts against humanity and God.

It wouldn't hurt much for the Church to turn its back on him, he supposed. He would still be Catholic, hold tight to his faith in God, and he would still love the children at his orphanage. He doubted he would get to see them much after joining such awareness groups, but…

Perhaps…

The end did justify the means.

The relief and his dizzying, perhaps slightly depressing thoughts, the news of Bishop Shimura's passing, the words of the old people in the pew in front of him, and the knowledge that he was about to be in private with the man who had supposedly saved his soul from demons came together in a heady mix that made him feel both boneless and wound too tight. He was a toy mouse and the key on his back had been turned one too many times. At the same time that he was exhausted, he was running on adrenaline still.

Samo thought about his bribe. "Okay." Chen and En reluctantly agreed as well.

Chen wrapped him up in a hug as Samo dragged En away. "See you soon, Lee."

He hugged her back, tight enough that she stopped breathing for just a moment. "Of course!"

He watched them leave fondly.

They were _safe_.

Then, free and caged, tired and wide awake, carefree and overwhelmed, he turned back to Father Sabaku.

He was eye-to-eye with the man, though he knew he had to be years younger than the redhead. Lee smiled graciously at him. "Hello, Father Sabaku. I have heard so much about you from my little roost of chicks!"

The redhead blinked expressionlessly at him. "You call them your 'little roost of chicks'?"

He put a hand on his hip. "It grew on me. Anyway, thank you for what you did for me! And thank you for saving En! Gosh, when he told me about the car incident, I cried my eyes out. If you had not been there… Well, let me just say, I am glad you were!" He cocked his head. "What did you need me for, Father Sabaku?"

Father Sabaku walked out of the open double doors, gesturing lazily with one hand for him to follow.

As he saw no reason not to, he did so.

"How much do you remember of my visit?" Father Sabaku asked him in a low, husky voice.

It hit him like an epiphany that Father Sabaku was rather handsome. It was how the sun filtered through heavy clouds and cast shadows over the man, not foreboding but peaceful. He had graceful features, unique eyes… Lee felt his cheeks warm up. Gah! How inappropriate! Especially for a priest…

_Especially_ for a priest.

He swallowed down a hard lump that surged into his throat. There were some things he had accepted about himself and some things he never wanted to face. "I do not remember much at all. That was, I did not until I saw you today." He frowned at the phantom memories. "I think you… tried to comfort me. And then there was something _evil_." It was the only way to define that wriggling mound of ugly flesh.

A headache settled into the base of his skull and temples. Stubbornly, he kept his hands loose at his sides. There were other fuzzy images, there in his mind, just beyond the grasp of his fiddling fingertips. There had been things said, hadn't there? Yes, there had been, but what about? What about, indeed.

Father Sabaku nodded, accepting what he did remember and not pressing further. "We discussed, to a certain extent, Bishop Shimura and you."

His blood ran cold.

Oh, no. _No_.

"What?" he squeaked, voice weak and lost.

"What you said led me to lead an investigation into Father Shimura's past services to different churches."

"I would think such an investigation would take weeks," he pointed out dumbly, somewhere between numb and shivering from something other than the autumn chill. His arms wrapped defensively over his chest, one hand to the opposing shoulder in a self-hug. Maybe it was even meant to protect his racing heart.

Father Sabaku lagged behind a step, just enough that he was walking beside Lee instead of in front of him. Without seeming to even glance at him, he unbuttoned his cassock and threw it lightly over Lee's shoulders. Though it did little to subdue the cold that came from within and not from without, it did do something to comfort him.

Yes. He remembered that – that comfort. Father Sabaku had done it before.

He drew the cassock tight around himself with a mumbled "Thank you very much". Father Sabaku's shoulders were broader than his, which made partially hiding himself in the black fabric easier.

That was, till he realized what he was doing. He was not one to hide! Not ever. Yet, for a moment, he allowed himself to pretend that he was twelve years old and that, for once, he was allowed to be protected instead of the one doing the protecting.

It felt nice. Really nice. He had apparently missed out on much in his childhood if this was the feeling he got just because a stranger lent him his coat.

"It would, usually," Father Sabaku answered tonelessly. "I know a few shortcuts."

When Lee's curious look did not get him to clarify these 'few shortcuts', he pouted the slightest bit. Curiosity had gotten him into trouble before, the worst sort of trouble. But that did not mean he had stopped being curious.

"This cathedral was not his first hunting ground," Father Sabaku explained, as if they were talking about game instead of a human being. "You and Naruto were not his first victims."

Lee froze at the name. "How do you know of Naruto?"

"His name was in your bible. When I pulled up his file, it stated that he had been released from a psych ward two years ago."

"R-really?" Naruto had been freed!

But, then… why hadn't he come back?

"I recently went to go meet him," Father Sabaku continued on as if he hadn't been interrupted. "There was a time period where he had to undergo physical and psychiatric therapy due to how he was treated here and at the psych ward. Outdated methods were used to try to correct him of his habits. After that, he was assigned a legal guardian and a home. Upon further investigation, I found out that he has been trying to send letters to you, but they were intercepted by Bishop Shimura. He has been very worried about you and the children, so I told him about you."

"… What did he say?"

"His exact words were, 'I knew he'd keep them safe while I was gone.'"

Lee caught a glimpse of the parking lot. It was empty, the last of the followers having departed. They circled around the cathedral to the large courtyard with its looming willow tree.

Lee frowned, sure he could see two forms on the other side of the white willow. He was distracted from looking too closely as Father Sabaku grabbed his attention yet again.

"He did agree to a visit, though, which his guardian agreed to. He wanted his girlfriend to meet you as well."

"His _girlfriend_? Naruto has told me that he does not want a fling but true love. And he has always been telling me that he wants to be a priest! Priests can not marry." In other words, Naruto had always contradicted himself.

Still, though, Lee had admired him for his goals. Naruto had believed that he was unstoppable. It was important to Lee that that hadn't changed.

"However, those who marry before they are ordained can become priests," Father Sabaku enlightened him. "It's after he is ordained that he can't marry."

"I see…"

Movement out of the corner of his eye distracted him. One of the figures under the tree had moved. Golden blonde hair had shimmered in the light cast through the naked willow branches. He turned fully in time for the figure to look in his direction.

Those were bright blue eyes. Those were scarred cheeks.

_That_ was _Naruto_. And he forgot completely how to breathe.

Bright blue eyes widened at the sight of him. A wide, white smile twisted scarred cheeks. "Bushybrow!"

They met somewhere in the middle, running into each other with the power of two boulders, the force echoing throughout their bodies in breathtaking shock. Men or not, their arms were around each other and they hid in each other's shoulders, shaking, laughing, perhaps with just a tear or two.

"Bushybrow!" Naruto repeated in a hoot of victory. "Man, this is just… I don't even… Just… _Fiddlesticks_."

He laughed harder despite himself. "F-fiddlesticks? What on earth…"

Naruto pulled away with a watery chuckle. "I'm trying to clean up my language, y'know? No one likes a cussing priest!"

"I suppose so." He studied his old friend through teary eyes. He was taller now. Bigger. More filled out. A boy had grown into a teenager on the verge of becoming an adult. Yet he hadn't really changed at all. His hair was as golden as Lee remembered, maybe even more so, and his eyes were the same sky blue and his smile was just as big and he was, he was…

He was Naruto.

"Oh, hey, uh, Bushybrow." Naruto turned away from him for a moment, gesturing wildly for the second figure to come over.

She had long, purple-black hair and soft lilac eyes. She was the epitome of delicate beauty and she moved with unmatchable grace. For one so ethereal, though, she was blushing and her eyes were downcast.

Song lyrics popped into Lee's mind, a random country song one of the other orphans had sung lazily to herself.

_She don't know she's beautiful, no, she don't know she's beautiful, though time and time I've told her so ~_

Naruto's gaze was unbelievably soft as he watched her approach. He kept one arm open towards her and she pressed herself into his side, all but melting into him.

"This is my girlfriend, Hinata," Naruto introduced smugly. "Hinata, this is Bushybrow – uh, Lee. He's the guy I've been telling you about."

Hinata twirled a strand of her long hair around her fingers. "Hello, Lee…" She spoke in a low, embarrassed tone.

Then, startling Lee, she left Naruto's side and pulled him into a hug. She was surprisingly strong. Instinctively, he embraced her back as she settled her chin on his shoulder, her mouth near his ear.

"Thank you," she whispered, admiration and pain and affection and gratitude in her words. "Thank you for everything."

His throat closed on him. "I really did not do much!" he tried to say cheerfully, and, instead, ended up sobbing. "As a matter of fact, I believe it was Father Sabaku who finally put an end to the abuse."

Realizing what he had just said, he looked over Hinata's head at Naruto, wondering just how much she knew of what _they_ had gone through, and not just what kind of person Bishop Shimura had been.

Naruto just grinned, looking free as a bird and so in love that Lee couldn't stop a dopey smile from coming across his own face.

"We know," Hinata replied, pulling slowly away. She looked past Lee. "Thank you again. You both are…" Her smile was purely angelic. Lee felt not so ancient when she looked at them like that. "You both are our guardian angels and we will always have candles lit for you both."

"Yep!" Naruto seconded. "We're getting together every Christmas, all of us! Got that?" He glared at first Lee and then at Father Sabaku. "No excuses. Even if the apocalypse is going down, Christmas is still on."

Lee saluted, an old habit of his for whenever Naruto ordered him around as children, soldiers of God on a mission to save the innocent. "Understood!"

He looked over his shoulder expectantly at Father Sabaku.

The redhead looked… what was the word for it?

Not emotional, not ruffled, yet there was something noticeably _startled_ about him. Perhaps it was the air around him, or maybe it was that his naked eyebrows were less than a centimeter closer than what Lee had seen in the little time he had known the priest.

The man was surprised, though, and Lee smiled at the realization.

"I… understand," Father Sabaku said at last. "I've been told I have a habit of being late," he added on with less surprise. It wasn't an excuse or a reason, but, perhaps, just a warning.

"As long as you don't show up the next day, we should be cool," Naruto permitted. He clapped Lee on the shoulder. "When you come over, you can meet my guardian Jiraiya! He knew my real parents and he's been telling me all these wild stories about them. Man, I'm just like my mom!"

Lee listened to whatever Naruto had to say, though half of it went in one ear and passed out the other.

Naruto was standing in front of him. He was going to spend Christmas with him, the love of his life, and Father Sabaku, his savior.

His concerns melted away. Nothing else really mattered except for this moment.

He sent a silent prayer up to God.

_Thank you_.


	13. Eleven: The Greatest of These is Love

Lee was fifteen years old, leaning against an old gnarled tree with his best friend standing with his back to it.

His friend had been eerily silent lately, worrying Lee. He knew his friend, though. Better than other people did. And he knew his friend would open up to him sooner or later.

Long ash brown hair fell down his friend's back. In one moment, it was a smooth waterfall contained by a single band low on his back.

In the next, his friend had his hands buried in it, cursing a blue streak as he crouched down, defensively pulled into himself as if his own personal demons had come out to fight and he simply wasn't ready for them.

And Lee knew, with some alarm, that it would be sooner rather than later.

He put a gentle hand on Neji's shoulder. "What is wrong?"

The Hyuuga sagged into his touch. "It's nothing," he snapped, though it was obviously something. "Don't concern yourself with my business."

Lee hadn't heard Neji be this harsh with him in nearly four years. He frowned and shuffled a little closer, bumping his shoulder against Neji's back in silent support.

He said nothing, though. Because Neji would tell him in his own time.

The silence was thick and deadly. Lee looked up into the thick foliage of the trees, summer heat held at bay and the fresh scent of greenery filling his lungs.

He felt safe here, away from the orphanage and cathedral and Bishop Shimura. Don't get him wrong, he loved his church and the other children at the orphanage. It was just that…

Even he could get tired of having people depend on him. It was even more exhausting when no one had any clue what he was doing for them. It was his greatest wish to have at least one person realize that he was being used, that he was willingly sacrificing himself for the innocence of other children, and say _thank you_.

He just wanted that one moment of recognition for everything he had gone through.

Since it hadn't happened yet and, as far as anyone else was concerned, he might as well not be doing anything at all, he had decided that one afternoon with his friend couldn't be _too_ selfish… could it? Bishop Shimura never came till after nightfall and it was midday so the children were safe… right?

He shoved aside his paranoia before it could take hold of him. Nonetheless, his hands began jittering. Neji's back to him, his friend didn't notice.

The Hyuuga sighed after ten minutes of heavy, angry quiet. "Shikamaru and I have been lovers for the past several months."

Lee stopped moving. He stopped breathing. He stopped… everything.

His dark eyes swiveled in their sockets to glare with disgust at the back of Neji's head. His friend… a monster? Bishop Shimura… _No_. Neji had to be confused or something. Or maybe Shikamaru was confusing him.

Bishop Shimura had confused him at times. Sometimes, things that Bishop Shimura did to him felt good. Those were the times when he could admit to himself that he was every dirty word Bishop Shimura called him. He was a filthy slut, a whore, a defect, so dirty, God would never forgive him for his disgusting body and wayward thoughts…

Worse, he had been noticing other men lately. His thoughts had wondered more than once to thinking about what it would be like to lay with a man of _his_ choosing. When he had been twelve, he had tried to have a crush on a girl, Sakura, and it had failed so miserably that he had cried himself to sleep for two weeks.

Bishop Shimura's taint had been rubbing off on him. He was diseased, just as much as the Holy man was. Once he was no longer of use in protecting the children, he was going to take his own life. Suicide was viewed as a sin by the Church, but he was already going to Hell, so what did it matter?

He would rather die than become Bishop Shimura. To know a man _willingly_, to view them in the way he should only view women, it made him feel broken. Unfixable. Deranged.

And now Neji was saying that he and another boy were sodomizing?

Lee's mind shattered. That was disturbing!

_If a man lies with a male as with a woman, both of them have committed an abomination; they shall be put to death, their blood is upon them. _

_For this reason God gave them up to dishonorable passions. Their women exchanged natural relations for unnatural, and the men likewise gave up natural relations with women and were consumed with passion for one another, men committing shameless acts with men and receiving in their own persons the due penalty for their error. And since they did not see fit to acknowledge God, God gave them up to a base mind and to improper conduct._

_Now we know that the law is good, if any one uses it lawfully, understanding this, that the law is not laid down for the just but for the lawless and disobedient, for the ungodly and sinners, for the unholy and profane, for murderers of fathers and murderers of mothers, for manslayers, immoral persons, sodomites, kidnapers, liars, perjurers, and whatever else is contrary to sound doctrine, in accordance with the glorious gospel of the blessed God with which I have been entrusted. _

It all passed through his head in a whirlwind of words and scriptures and passages.

It was wrong to lie with another man. It was shameful and God would condemn them.

He brought a shaking hand to his mouth and bit down hard on the palm close to his thumb. Blood gushed into his mouth.

Neji, his back to him, noticed nothing.

"It was alright in the beginning. I'm just a servant to the main branch and he's a worker at the national park. My uncle doesn't care what I do as long as the tabloids don't get hold of it and Shikamaru and I can easily get lost in the park." Lee, out of the corner of his wide eyes, saw Neji lean into his hand. "But then it got complicated. Shikamaru told me he loved me."

And there it was again. Another explosion within Lee's heart, body, soul, and mind. The aftershocks left him breathless.

_Love_? There was no love in it! The act of homosexuality was dirty! Filthy! It hurt, it hurt so bad, both physically and mentally, and no one, _no one_, should have to go through that. Surely, only those truly sick could enjoy such a thing.

Like Bishop Shimura.

Like him.

But _love_?

Love meant that Shikamaru cared for Neji, his _male_ lover, didn't it? It meant he had feelings for him that he should for another woman. It meant that Neji was special to him as more than just a body to sin with.

Reason trickled through Lee's mind like the blood from his palm trickled down his throat.

Neji wasn't Bishop Shimura. Neji, though he could be selfish and arrogant at times, cold towards a certain brand of people and difficult to deal with on his bad days and hard to understand on his good ones, was still a good person. Lee would lay down his life for his friend if need be.

Neji had had to do a lot of growing up lately. And, in doing so, he had found a better person in himself. Lee had known that he had volunteered at the national park that Shikamaru's family ran and that he had been taking personal interest in the lives around him, making an effort to open his mind to the world and what needed to be done. He taught self-defense at a local dojo. Every few days, he would offer advice to troubled teens like himself.

Neji was not a monster. Neji was not damned. Neji was not a sinner…

Neji was Neji. Neji was… his friend.

He retracted his teeth from his hand. Like a wounded animal, he licked at the indents till they stopped bleeding. Confusion kept him silent.

Homosexuality was dirty. It was shameful. It hurt. Lee was going to Hell for liking it. He had always comforted himself with the thought that, at least, Bishop Shimura would suffer alongside with him.

Neji groaned and leaned his head back against Lee's shoulder. If he felt the tension running through Lee's body, he didn't mention it.

"How could he love me, Lee?" he asked softly. "I'm not a good person. I purposely sought to harm my own cousin when I was younger and I was so… self-centered. I thought that the world owed me because I had suffered. How could he love someone like that?"

There was a tone to his voice. His questions were almost pleading, as if he needed Lee to have the answer he didn't have.

It took his sluggish, shell-shocked brain a few moments to figure it out.

_Gosh_, Neji loved Shikamaru back!

The edges of his vision got dark.

This wasn't right. It wasn't proper. God would not like it. God would send them to Hell. Neji didn't deserve to go to Hell! Lee – perhaps. He had liked it. He had learned to like it, maybe. Or he had been born liking it and that was why Bishop Shimura had done the things he had done to him for the past few years.

"Do you know what would happen if we had a public relationship?" Neji changed the subject suddenly, a tint of alarm in his voice. "My uncle would find us out and the tabloids would butcher the Hyuuga name. Gods, what Shikaku would do to Shikamaru if he found out the son he was expecting to have children was gay! No." He sighed again. "I couldn't let it happen, Lee. I told him that love had no part in what we did together. Secrecy and mindless romps in the forest were all we were ever going to have."

"He called me out on it," Neji's voice turned almost speculative, bland, unsurprised. "His response was that, when I know what I really want, I know where to find him. He said that I should think about us instead of everyone else." His voice went a pitch lower. "I want him, Lee. Gods, when I was with him, life was so… much brighter. He's a sarcastic, lazy, arrogant little asshole, and, yet, he made me happy. We should be too much alike for either of us to gain anything from the relationship, but, when we were… well, sated, we would talk. We would have long, fulfilling discussions about things other people wouldn't understand: psychology, the human mind, fate, philosophy, the carcinogens found in cigarettes… There was nothing we couldn't talk about."

This… went beyond the bonding of two males. Or, at least, of the bonding of their two bodies.

This was intellectual. This was heart and heart, mind and mind, soul to soul. Neji sounded near heartbreak. The fact that he was leaning on Lee, his voice so defeated, told Lee volumes about the situation within the situation.

Neji loved another man. He loved him for more than his body.

"You've been awfully silent about the whole thing," Neji commented dryly. "What does your God have to say about it?"

He thought of the earlier references he had recalled. His throat went dry and he couldn't force the words that bubbled acidically in his stomach out of his mouth.

What past his lips instead, surprised them both.

"_If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal. And if I have prophetic powers, and understand all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have all faith, so as to remove mountains, but have not love, I am nothing. If I give away all I have, and if I deliver my body to be burned, but have not love, I gain nothing. Love is patient and kind; love is not jealous or boastful; it is not arrogant or rude. Love does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Love never ends; as for prophecies, they will pass away; as for tongues, they will cease; as for knowledge, it will pass away. So faith, hope, love abide, these three; but the greatest of these is love_."

Neji was silent for a long moment. Lee cloaked himself in a deeper shush.

"That's beautiful," Neji said at last. "I thought you were going to call me an abomination for being with another man."

He had thought so too.

Instead of admitting to that, though, he swallowed thickly. His tongue tasted of copper. His thoughts slowed to a sluggish speed, lazy, and he felt an almost drug-induced calm settle over him.

_But the greatest of these is love_.

What Bishop Shimura was doing to him was wrong. Lee's responses were also condemnable. But Neji – Neji was free of sin, all because he had love.

Lee closed his eyes. He couldn't see through the tears clouding his wavering vision.

"I just want you to be happy, Neji." His voice cracked. It sounded broken and ragged, as if he had been screaming. "If Shikamaru makes you happy, then you should go to him. Because you love him. I can hear it in your voice and you can not deny it!"

"You're right," Neji admitted softly. "Lee?"

"Y-yes?"

"Thank you."

He managed a true smile.

He knew something about himself now. About his friends. About life. _He_ should be thanking _Neji_.

Neji didn't know that, though, so he responded cheerfully, "There is no reason to. I am always here for my friends! Yes, I consider it my Catholic duty to spread the word of God and bring happiness to everyone's day." He winced. "Though, of course, your religion is interesting as well."

"Thank you, Lee," Neji repeated again with less patience. Then he paused. "Would you come with me?"

He didn't have to say to where.

Lee ran his unmarred hand through his hair, mussing it up. His recent revelation had left him ruffled. In all honesty, he wasn't sure if he could stand, much less go anywhere with Neji. "Of course, Neji. Whenever you need me, you can be certain I will be here for you!"

"You are a true friend."

In reality, though, Neji was his savior.

On the way out of the woods to Neji's car, Lee glimpsed an attractive _male_ jogger passing them by in the opposite direction.

His heart sped up, his palms sweated, the muscles in his legs trembled as if to race into action and go far, far away from where he was. A stray thought crossed his mind: _filthy little whore_.

He flushed darkly as the man caught him looking and winked.

Neji saw the action and scowled. "Just get in the car, Lee." He shot the jogger a dirty look till the man sped up and disappeared onto the wood trails. He got into the driver's seat and cut Lee a haughty look. "It's your aura," he announced. "Men can't deny you for your aura. It _screams _'save me, I'm not as tough as I look'."

Lee blinked owlishly at him, Bishop Shimura's voice fading. "Does it?"

"Yes, it does." He started the car. "It's one of the many things about you that confuse me."

He looked out the window, heart beating fast.

_You're going to Hell for thinking of other men_, hissed his prejudices.

_I have an aura_, countered his struck-dumb self. _Men like it_.

_But the greatest of these is love._

~""~

_Author's Note: I looked up the bible quotes on the internet – trusted sites and such, so they should be accurate._


	14. Twelve: No Rest for the Weary

_Two years later…_

"I have noticed something about you lately, Father Sabaku." Lee exhaled slowly through his mouth, watching ice crystals form from his breath. Pleased with himself, he tucked his chin back into his scarf and stuffed his mittened hands into his admittedly too-thin spring jacket. He was wearing a sweater beneath it, and he also generated large amounts of heat on a regular basis anyway, so he had never bothered to get a thicker coat for the chillier winter days and nights.

Now, a shiver ran through him before he could contain it. His companion flicked a glance in his direction and he smiled pleasantly, holding up a hand to ward off the man from taking off his own jacket for him… again. It seemed to have happened a number of times over the years they had known each other.

Father Sabaku, Lee had learned, despite his lack of facial expressions and awkward bluntness, was a very kind man.

Father Sabaku slowly lowered his own hands back into the deep pockets of his cassock. The hem was frayed and Lee himself had stitched two of the buttons back on it at different occasions. It should have been threadbare, Lee had realized when Father Sabaku had told him just how old it was, yet it wasn't. It was aged, but still incredibly warm and… nice. The few times Lee had let himself take what Father Sabaku offered and wear the cassock, he had felt nearly invincible. As if, in some way more profound than physical, he was protected.

It was with some regret that Lee realized he would not get to wear the man's cassock tonight. Yet it _was_ very cold and Father Sabaku was not as accustomed to the chill as Lee was. He had admitted, only a couple of months before, that he was used to warmer weather. Always places in the south.

Beneath that cassock, he most likely was wearing his burgundy duster. Lee would rather not take any chances though, remembering the one time Father Sabaku had only worn a thin black sweater instead.

"What is that?" Father Sabaku asked after they swallowed up three feet of distance. They were that much closer to Naruto and Hinata's apartment.

"You never complain!"

Father Sabaku looked at him with dull eyes, as if this epiphany of Lee's had never actually occurred to him before. "I see."

"I do not think you do," Lee countered slyly. "My presence always has a soothing quality to it!" He did not say it to brag, almost, he admitted to it sheepishly, and it was said in a way that Father Sabaku could dispute if he didn't agree with him. "People always open up to me. They know that I am always here to listen without judgment and that I can keep any and all secrets." He laughed softly. "It is almost as if people believe I am a confessional. You, however…" He reached out a mittened finger to wriggle it near the man's cheek. "You have never once spoken of any problem to me."

"I am a priest. The problems I have are between me and God."

"God did not create one man to talk to himself," Lee admonished. "Besides, you do so much as it is! Surely, talking to one other person just once, a gift to yourself on this holiday, could not be a sin."

"You seem adamant about this suddenly," Father Sabaku drawled, facing forward.

Lee butted their shoulders together. "It is because I was visiting my children and they told me that you do not speak often at all outside of church! As your friend, I would be honored to listen to what you have to – no." Lee's expressive brows drew together as he sought the appropriate words. "I would be honored to listen to what you _want_ to say instead of what everyone must hear." He looked up into the night sky. The full moon hung high with hundreds of twinkling stars quilted into the dark blue expanse above him.

He closed one eye, tilted his head to the side, and stretched one hand out towards the moon. He closed his palm slowly, carefully, on seemingly nothing.

Father Sabaku's eyes narrowed. "What are you doing?"

"I am holding the moon in the palm of my hand. It is something one of the children showed me. It fits perfectly, actually, and I was very surprised when she told me of this…"

Father Sabaku looked down at his own hand. It was not gloved or mittened. The tips of his fingers were red, despite having been in his toasty pockets. Without much enthusiasm he copied Lee's actions.

For a moment, they stopped on the snowy sidewalk to hold the star in the cradle of their fingers.

"… My hand hurts," Father Sabaku said at last in a near-whisper, as if designing for Lee not to hear him. "It has been hurting for a very long time."

Lee frowned and retracted his hand, only to reach out towards Father Sabaku. "The one in the bandages, yes?" Seemingly a rhetorical question, he was already dragging the limb from Father Sabaku's other pocket, cradling it in both his hands as he carefully unwound the gauze.

He hissed in sympathetic pain at the mess of scar tissue and burns that met his gaze. There were two series of three-slash like marks on the back of his hand and he traced them gently. They looked fresh, possibly inflicted by a small animal with very long claws.

"Do you have any wounds from the time you saved me?" he asked lowly, humbled by this man and his sacrifices.

"I had to rip the demon from you." It was possibly the closest thing Lee would get to a "yes".

Lee sighed and lifted the hand to his lips. "You are truly the greatest man I know, to go through such pain for strangers. One day, I hope you can find happiness to match your sacrifices."

If he was aware of the fact that he had been holding onto the priest for far longer than what could be considered polite, he did not let on as he turned the hand this way and that, frowning and muttering at every new scar he found.

Father Sabaku's eyes were half-closed as he muttered, "This is atonement, Lee. Happiness is too much to ask for." He tugged his hand free and rewrapped it.

"Nonsense! I can not imagine you committing any crime against God terrible enough to warrant complete darkness." Lee's dark eyes glittered dangerously. "The next time you are hurt, come to me. I shall treat your wounds." There was a light flush to his face that had little to do with the cold.

Father Sabaku saw this. And he said nothing of it.

"I understand," was his only reply.

They came to an apartment complex and ascended to the third floor. Fifth door in, they knocked.

The door slammed open and a grinning blonde stood on the other side. Behind him, Hinata, his fiancé, was putting the finishing touches on a glowing, sparkling Christmas tree the likes of which to put to shame the orphanage's attempts at decoration. "Hey, guys! Merry Christmas!"

"Merry Christmas, Naruto, Hinata!" Lee chirped in turn, bringing the blonde into a hug before slipping past him and embracing a beaming Hinata.

Father Sabaku offered his rare, small smile and clapped Naruto on the shoulder. "Merry Christmas."

~""~

It was three weeks after officially meeting the priest that Lee came to the ultimate and unchangeable conclusion that he was in love with Father Sabaku. It was his kindness, his small, nearly unnoticeable expressions of happiness and sorrow, his eyes that saw all, the warmth and smell of his cassock, his vindicating sermons…

The moment he had truly fallen for the priest, though, more than he had just fallen in love but loved Father Sabaku above near all else, was the moment Father Sabaku had stood in the dawn, red and orange and pink light catching his handsome features, and had given him his full support to join SNAP*.

SNAP, otherwise known as the Survivors Network of those Abused by Priests, had been just what Lee had been looking for when he had wanted to share his story and make sure that no one else became a victim like he had been.

He had told Father Sabaku about it before he had actually joined, having wanted his opinion above all others. The children hadn't known, or else he would have wanted their opinions as well.

Father Sabaku's exact words had been: _"Do what you need to do, Lee. There is no position of power that exists either worldly or divinely that makes it okay to do what Bishop Shimura did to you. You're going to have enemies. But I will never be one of them."_

Oh, yes.

That was the moment Lee's heart had leaped trustingly and eagerly into Father Sabaku's hands.

That was a secret, though. Lee wanted nothing more than to crow about his love for the redhead, and he would go so far as to completely ignore for the rest of his days the voices that called him filthy in his own mind if that was what it took.

That would not make it better, though. Because Father Sabaku was… well, a Father. He was a priest, a man of God. Though Lee had heard him huskily dispel the homophobia and racism that Bishop Shimura had darkened the cathedral with, that would not make it right for Lee to challenge his vows as a Holy man for the sake of his own selfish desires.

Lee was blending his own protein shake when there was a knock at his door. His small, two-room apartment – one bedroom and the living room and kitchen as the same space with a small, almost cupboard-like bathroom branching off from his room – was his first ever home away from the orphanage. He was used to cramped spaces and so saw nothing wrong with the fact that it took only five steps to quirk the knob and see who stood in the hallway.

He frowned in concern. "Father Sabaku, what happened?"

The man did not look well. His scarlet red hair was drenched and his skin ashen pale. The bags under his eyes looked heavier than ever and he was cradling his bandaged hand close to his chest where it shook as if caught in spasms of pain. He was leaning against the doorjamb, looking at Lee with bleary pale eyes. "You said to come whenever…" The priest's words drifted off, as if lost in another land as his gaze flickered down and away and up and back.

"Gosh…" was all Lee could think to say as he gently ushered the redhead in.

It was almost as if Father Sabaku was delirious or something.

Not having much furniture above what was absolutely needed and not actually needing many things himself, he sat the priest down on his bed, opting to ignore the single stool in his kitchen/living room. Father Sabaku sank back into the mattress with a small, tired sigh. His eyes flickered shut for but a moment before opening and watching Lee with no particular emotion or even recognition.

Lee took Father Sabaku's bandaged hand into his own. Unwinding the gauze, he made a horrendous discovery.

There were three twisting burns that began at the seams of where his fingers met his hand and ended at his inner elbow. They twisted and curved over his already mutilated flesh, like tendrils of flames, and oozed.

Lee looked up into Father Sabaku's face. Small beads of sweat dotted his forehead and Lee caringly wiped them away.

"It is alright, Father Sabaku. I will take care of you as best as I can!" He bit hard into his bottom lip.

Father Sabaku did so much to protect others… Had this been a particularly wicked demon, bent on not releasing its victim?

Lee went in search of aloe and other things.

When he came back, Father Sabaku had closed his eyes. His breathing was harsh, his uninjured hand clawing at his clerical collar and then ripping out the first three buttons of his cassock. The buttons 'pinged' against the floor, two in a row. The third either landed somewhere else on the bed or on the small rug beside it.

Lee rested his inner wrist against Father Sabaku's forehead. The priest shuddered.

"Gosh, you are running a fever!"

This changed some things.

This changed, actually, nothing.

Lee was still going to do his best to take care of Father Sabaku. If it was required of him to find the fountain of healing somewhere in the wide world through a hundred trials, he would. He was really that determined to help the priest.

"… Lee…" Father Sabaku called out. "Lee!"

"Ssshhh, sssshhhh. Yes, I am here. What is it?" He ran his hand down Father Sabaku's arm and grasped his unharmed hand in silent strength.

Bleary pale eyes focused on him, past him, through him. "It hurts."

He nodded seriously. "I know. I will do my best to make you comfortable."

Father Sabaku slowly released him, eyes rolling into the back of his head as he fought falling asleep for reasons Lee could not comprehend.

Some minutes later, he had rewrapped Father Sabaku's injured hand, released him from most of his clothing aside from his boxers, undershirt, and socks, had managed to flip him onto his front, and had garlic boiling in water as he massaged the priest's head, neck, and back.

He was attempting, valiantly at that, to ignore the fact that he was straddling the man's waist, so achingly close to the man he loved that he could feel his muscles beneath his hands, could catch the echo of his heartbeat, feel the heat of his body. He had to bite the inside of his check to stop himself from saying anything damaging.

_I love you_! was a good example.

_Please forego your vows of celibacy to be my most special person_ was another.

_I want you _was possibly the most ridiculous thing he could say in such a position as theirs.

"Lee…" Father Sabaku's voice was drowsy, distant. So tired. "You've got to stop."

He paused, feeling a brief flash of horror. Had he been saying his desires out loud? Or, perhaps…

He glanced down at himself. Yes, he was hardening in his sweat pants, but, at this angle, he had been hoping Father Sabaku would not realize that. How terrible was he, to be aroused by an ill man? He could hear Bishop Shimura in the back of his head, calling him a whore.

He combated it with Neji's love for his boyfriend Shikamaru. They lusted after each other, and it was merely a factor in their affection for each other. It meant that their chemistry was good and that their love was insatiable.

He would like to think that his love was insatiable as well.

"I can't fall asleep," Father Sabaku grumbled. "You can't let me…" He twitched, as if wanting to enforce his words with action. His body was weak though, the burns causing havoc on his exhausted form. Lee pressed into a sensitive nerve and the priest jerked before going boneless, another groan escaping him.

Lee was flushed scarlet red. On one hand, he was bringing Father Sabaku pleasure and relief from his pain. On the other, he was enjoying this too much for it to be solely for Father Sabaku's case.

"Sleep will help you get better!" Lee cheered.

"Not me." Father Sabaku opened one eye to stare at him. "Stop." Lee did.

"I have to check on the water," he mumbled as his best excuse for obeying Father Sabaku when he obviously needed to rest. "Garlic water will aide you in battling your fever. It is something that the nuns used whenever one of us got sick. Or, at least, it was something they did when we had our own garden." He remembered when Bishop Shimura had stopped funding their small garden of herbs and vegetables. He and several other children had cried.

"It is good that you decided to bring that back," he commented lightly, able to speak without yelling from the kitchen. "It will give the children something to do."

He returned with a steaming cup of water. He had drained out the bulbs, wanting only the juices the water had absorbed. "Sip slowly."

Father Sabaku managed to fight his way onto his back and then into a sitting position with little assistance from Lee. He took the drink in his good hand that shook anyway and did as told. If he thought the remedy unpleasant in taste or smell, he said nothing of it and took small baby sips till the cup was half empty.

He handed it back to Lee, eyes drifting shut. "Thank you."

"All I want in the world is for you to get better!" He put the cup on the bedside table. It was an old, rickety thing, more of a hand-me-down from one of the other churchgoers. "I am not sure how long it will take for your fever to break, and I do not have any pain pills for your wounds. It would be best if you slept," he tried again, albeit with weak determination.

One eye dragged open to peer at him. "No sleep for me."

"You have to sleep at _some_ point."

"Never."

"Never?"

Father Sabaku closed his eye. "I haven't slept since the day I was born."

"That is impossible! Everyone requires rest at some point or another – are you certain you haven't been taking micro-naps? It is when your body shuts itself down…"

"No, Lee." Father Sabaku breathed in deeply, released slowly, and Lee watched his chest inflate and deflate in absolute awe. "I can't sleep."

"How have you managed to live this long without rest?"

"Inheritance."

"Inheritance of what?" Lee asked innocently.

Father Sabaku turned his head into Lee's nap and vomited in answer.

"_The Lord is my Shepherd_," Father Sabaku whispered feverishly, sweat gleaming on his alabaster skin as his hands twitched over his abdomen and the muscles of his legs shivered noticeably enough for Lee to nervous. "_I shall not want.  
He maketh me to lie down in green pastures:  
He leadeth me beside the still waters.  
He restoreth my soul:  
He leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for His name' sake._

_Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,  
I will fear no evil: For thou art with me;  
Thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me.  
Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies;  
Thou annointest my head with oil; My cup runneth over._

_Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life,  
and I will dwell in the House of the Lord forever._"

"Amen," Lee murmured, crossing himself. A third of his mind was fretting over what to do of the mess Father Sabaku had made of him and his clothes while every other cell in his body and every beat of his heart worried over the internal battle that seemed to have swept away the priest.

"Amen," Father Sabaku mimicked in a cracking, hoarse voice. He wheezed, as if his throat was incredibly dry.

Lee put his inner wrist to Father Sabaku's forehead again. It was as if Father Sabaku was burning in the fires of Hell, he was so hot!

Lee crossed the Father, praying for the soul of the man he loved. Something was not right here. Something was, indeed, terrible wrong.

"_The light of God surrounds you,_

_The love of God enfolds you,_

_The power of God protects you,_

_The presence of God watches over you,_

_Wherever you are, God is._

_And all is well."_

"Please, Father Sabaku," he begged, "please be alright!"

"Don't let me fall asleep…" Father Sabaku slurred. "Don't let me…"

~""~

_*SNAP is an actual organization. To find out more about it, visit snapnetwork at org. (Instead of at, though, use a period. Fanfiction at net is not link-friendly)._

_Just a little insert from their homepage: 'If you've been victimized by clergy, please know that you are not alone. You can get better. You can reach out to others who've been hurt just like you have. Together, we can heal one another.'_


	15. Thirteen: I Want To Touch This Light

It was a long, trying battle. Blood was spilled, lives were lost, his sanity was shattered and then pieced clumsily back together, only to break into a million more pieces. He worked himself bloody, fingers worn to the bone, having walked and ran and leaped through the soles of his shoes and the pads of his feet till every step he took left behind a scarlet trail and even that faded into black ash that came and went on the razor-sharp winds. The laugher haunted him, taunted him, tried to drag him deeper as he fought in the opposite direction of the war.

The internal war.

Gaara's eyes flickered open and he stared at an off-white ceiling. His cheek was throbbing for reasons he wasn't sure of and his arm ached and pulsed. Other than those few pains, he suffered no other injuries. The war had not happened. Not externally, anyway, and he released a long breath he hadn't been aware he had been holding.

At his sides, merely to reassure himself, he flexed his hands and his fingers bent into his palm, flesh against flesh. He curled one leg up and felt the sole of his foot through the thin layer of his sock rasp against the bed sheets beneath him.

Slowly, over the silence that pressed in on him with a breathless sort of anticipation, he heard humming. It seemed to be imitating low music.

"_You could be a hero – heroes do what's right"_, crooned a definite female voice as he swung first one leg and then the other over the edge of the bed. His vision swam for a moment and his arm pulsed in agony. He shut his eyes tightly against the pain and focused on the sensation of the threadbare quilt beneath his unharmed hand. It was soft, his senses told him. It had been worn in generations before Lee had adopted it.

"_You could be a hero – you might save a life,_

_You could be a hero – you could join the fight,_

_For what's right, for what's right, for what's right!"_

Lee's humming, as he had come to assume that it was Lee doing the humming, turned into a duet as he sang along with the music artist.

"No one talks to her, she feels so alone.  
She's in too much pain to survive on her own.  
The hurt she can't handle overflows to a knife,  
She writes on her arm and wants to give up her life.  
Each day she goes on is a day that she's brave,  
Fighting the lie that giving up is the way.  
Each moment of courage her on life she saves  
When she throws the pills out a hero is made.  
Heroes are made when you make a choice!"

He stood up slowly, aware of how his stomach flipped at the careful action. Lee's voice wasn't noteworthy. It was high-pitched and full of overwhelming emotion and Gaara almost had it in him to smile at how endearing that was.

He stumbled out of the bedroom and took a short right. There stood Lee at the sink, laundry soap on one side and a hand towel in the other as he scrubbed diligently at a pair of pants.

"No one talks to him about how he lives,  
He thinks that the choices he makes are just his.  
Doesn't know he's the leader with the way he behaves,  
And others will follow the choices he's made.  
He lives on the edge, he's old enough to decide.  
His brother who wants to be him is just nine.  
He can do what he wants because it's his right.  
The choices he makes change a nine-year-old's life!"

Lee spun on his heel, pants whisked out of the full sink, and snapped them to remove some of the moisture. The spatter caught Gaara across most of his torso in an array of suds and Lee's eyes widened in horror at the sight of him.

Gaara didn't bother to wipe away at the water as it soaked through his undershirt. He nodded his head once in acknowledgement, a motion that Lee slowly, numbly copied. "Good morning, Lee."

"F-Father Sabaku…! I am so sorry, I did not mean to do that! It is just that I – you – _you_!" He threw the pants back in the sink and pointed an accusing finger at him. "Oh no, you do not! You will get back in that bed and rest. Gosh, do you know how worried you had me last night? If I did not know any better, I swear you were at war with yourself."

The faintest echo of screams and the ugly image of golden eyes gleaming as they caught sight of him flashed through his mind. "Why do you say that?" He took in the man's appearance. He looked as if he hadn't had a blink of sleep in a week, his hair run through till it stuck in random directions, completely at odds with the usually smooth bowl it was in. There were bags under his glassy eyes and his face was pale.

His question gave Lee pause. "Well, I mean, of course, _figuratively_. There was nothing – you have nothing to be concerned about. After all, you _did_ have a fever and fevers do have a delusional effect on certain people and, Gosh, I still need to check your temperature!"

He swatted away the hand that came towards his forehead. "What did I say last night, Lee?"

The younger man flinched as if struck and retreated back a step. Lee was a strong character, though. Gaara had known that from the first moment he had seen him in the filth of his room, a demon on his shoulder. Lee had not let himself be conquered then and it was no different now.

"Let me check your temperature first and make you some broth," Lee bargained, black gaze flashing with command. His hands were on his hips in a stubborn, motherly fashion that nearly made Gaara smile.

Lee was oddly feminine in some ways.

Instead of answering, though, he merely took a step back in a silent allowance for Lee to do what he wanted. It was with victory stamped out in his white smile that Lee checked his temperature, crooned pleasantly that his fever had indeed broken, and then moved aside to a cupboard to take out a small pot and a wooden spoon. Then it was to his small fridge and he retrieved a container of chicken cubes and some bundles of herbs.

"Do you have a garden here?" Gaara asked.

"Hhmm? Oh, no, no! My little roost of chicks gave these to me from the orphanage's garden. I asked the nuns to make doubly sure I was allowed to have them and they assured me I was, so…" He paused. A large, beaming smile came over his features. "Thank you again for restarting their garden."

He made a noncommittal sound of acknowledgement. Lee's smile grew as if Gaara had given him something precious.

"What did I say last night?" he asked again as Lee set up making the broth.

Lee cleared his throat distractedly. "You, um… You said I could not let you fall asleep. I thought the sleep would do you good, but I respected your wish and kept you awake as long as I could. At one point, though, I just could not get you to stay up! I swear, I tried everything at my disposal. I dumped water on you, I pinched you, I yelled in your ear, I clapped, I even went so far as to slap you! You would not respond to anything I did…"

He could see that Lee felt guilty about it. That told Gaara that it had been something he had done or said after he had passed out that made Lee so fidgety.

"What happened?" he asked again, softly.

Lee's back was to him, yet he still saw his muscles bunch and his body tensed as if on a spring, about to break loose and fly away. "At first, nothing. But then you started saying things in a language I could not understand. I thought you were praying, perhaps, but the words sounded so evil! And then you… Oh, the broth is done."

His plastic tone of joy alerted Gaara to something terrible. Lee's hands shook as he emptied the contents of the pot into a bowl and some of the broth splashed onto his hand. Lee jumped back with a yelp and the pot, not completely empty, clattered to the floor in loud, metallic bangs and the soup seeped into the cracks of the tiles.

Gaara was on his feet, picking up the pot as Lee rushed to the sink and thrust his hand under cold jets of water. Meanwhile, Gaara took the hand towel from the sink and cleaned up the mess.

"You do not have to do that, Father Sabaku," Lee all but whined. "It was my clumsy mistake and I should be the one to clean it up. After all, you are, were ill, you should rest as much as possible. If you could, take the bowl and go back to bed." He offered a shaky grin. "I usually do not allow food in the bedroom, but, for you, I will make an exception!"

Gaara, still crouching, looked up at the younger man. "I had golden eyes… and I said something to you that no one else knows about you." Lee flinched, smile slipping away as his eyes widened to nearly swallow up his entire face. The radio belted out a new song:

"_When I get lost in a sea of grey  
When I get tangled up in the wires  
And my only hope is a beggar's grace  
It's you that I find  
Before I'm blinded  
I can see you there, in a rain of fire  
Reaching out for me, I can touch it  
I can hear your voice, calling out my name  
I wanna touch this light…"_

That and the gushing water was all that could be heard.

Then Lee swallowed thickly, nodded his head, and looked ashamedly away. "I was startled… What you said – it is a secret of mine and I was hoping no one would know, and you had the most terrible smile! So I, um… I ask that you forgive me!"

He kept his surprise from showing. He could point out that he was the one that needed to be forgiven, but it wasn't often that Gaara Sabaku apologized. He would spend the rest of his days with his mouth open had he had to apologize for every sin he had committed, no matter his state of mind. "What do I need to forgive you for?" he said instead.

Lee's face was flushed a daring red. "I hit you. Very hard. It definitely got the smile off of your face, but the language you used on me!" The red deepened. "It was as if you were an entirely different person."

He felt his skin blistering under a fake white sun set in a black sky. He glanced down at his hands and found that his flesh was still intact, no bone or muscle revealed, and his blood flowed through his veins instead of out of his body.

Last night had been worse than he had thought it would be. Much worse. His eyes closed again. "Lee…"

"I still want to help you."

"… What?"

He opened his eyes to the vision of Lee with his hands on his hips, a small, vicious frown on his face. "This just shows me that you need someone to help you when you are too far gone! Gosh, the exorcism you did yesterday must have been a fight to the death, to put you in that state. My door is open to you no matter the time of day or night and I never want you to hesitate about coming here." The frown disappeared under a brazen blush. "It is my greatest wish to help you in any way I can, Father Sabaku."

Gaara nodded, not quite able to reach his voice. That was a lot to offer, especially when Lee had seen what he had seen and had heard what he had heard. The kindness of the younger man humbled him.

The love Lee obviously felt for him was even more overwhelming. But he was not the man for Lee. He was… not good. He was better than he had been in his younger, more violent days, but not necessarily a better man.

He took the bowl of broth Lee offered him nonetheless and took the love that wordlessly, unknowingly came with it. He used Lee's strong passion to fortify his faith and the memories of the internal war faded as Lee ushered him back off to bed.

He looked back at the man once. Yes, he was exhausted. His black, resilient eyes were, though not defeated, dull and bright at the same time. His hands still shook and he was in need of a shower by the looks of him.

"I would feel best if you came to bed with me," Gaara offered with no detectable inflection, not pressuring Lee to join him. Lee's face was scarlet at his words and he sputtered a gobbled mess of a denial till Gaara realized just how many ways what he had said could be taken. "All I want to do is rest." Not sleep. It was a blessing, how long he could go without sleep, in the same sense that it was curse for the reason why he couldn't sleep. "If you were by my side, it would be easier on me."

He didn't explain how so and, though Lee looked at him suspiciously for a moment, the younger man did not ask. He was too tired to fight Gaara and stumbled to the bed. It was a small mattress but they both managed to fit somehow. Gaara drank his broth and put the empty bowl down on the floor as Lee weaved in and out of consciousness, eyes opening and closing blearily. A quiet sigh told Gaara that Lee had finally passed out and he leaned back against the wall, arms over his chest.

He closed his eyes, made his thoughts disappear, and rested in his blank mind, a slight hum of relief running throughout his body.

A few hours later, he was startled enough to shake off his peaceful state to take stock of what was going on around him.

Lee had moved in his sleep, closer to Gaara, and his head rested on Gaara's abdomen with one arm curled around his waist. Lee's long legs hung over the edge of the bed and he murmured pleasantly before his body lost all tension once more.

Gaara closed his eyes. The warm body against his, the peace of a home without demons, the satisfying heat of the broth in his system…

It was more than he deserved.

But he took it all anyway.

~""~

_Author's Note: The first song was 'Hero' by Superchick and the second song was 'Touch This Light' by Cold Hard Want. They are both from the genre of Christian Rock. _


	16. Fourteen: Followed by Darkness

Every several months, usually just before or just after the full moon, Lee opened his door to usher in an unsteady, delirious priest.

He had been horrified the first two visits, wondering what was causing the man so much grief. Then, by the fifth visit, the third time meeting the thing that Father Sabaku became when he was unconscious, he knew the answer and was even more scared.

Father Sabaku, exorcist and priest, had a demon in him. Or, maybe, just a connection to a demon. Lee visited Chen, Samo, and En often enough to know that En only ever saw Father Sabaku battling demons instead of demons attaching themselves to him.

It was six months after the first night, the fire-like burns and the hellish fever and the golden eyes mocking him as Father Sabaku's voice rasped, _What a filthy whore, to get all hot and bothered over a Holy man!_

Lee opened his door without fail, even before Father Sabaku knocked, and held out a key before Father Sabaku could take a step inside. "This is to my apartment, in the case that I am not here and you need a place to rest!" He put the key in Father Sabaku's hand and curled his fingers around it. He hoped that his smile didn't give too much away, like how nervous he was or how much he loved the man in front of him. These past trials of Father Sabaku coming over in agony had not taken away from his feelings for the priest, but had only cemented them.

Never, and he would vow this to himself in his prayers as he woke up and before he went to sleep, would he leave Father Sabaku alone to fight his own demons.

The radio was whispering Christian Rock as Father Sabaku nodded and pocketed the key. "Thank you, Lee." He tripped over the threshold and Lee had to catch him. Throwing Father Sabaku's one arm over his shoulders, he half-dragged, half-supported the man to the bedroom.

Father Sabaku toppled into his bed. Lee pressed his inner wrist to his forehead.

No fever this time, thank goodness, but he was awfully cold and his pale eyes wandered away from Lee to stare past him at the ceiling. His eyes narrowed into a glare as if something was looming over them, something Lee could not see, and Father Sabaku did not appreciate its presence.

"Damn you to Hell," he snarled with such vehemence that Lee flinched and stumbled back. He knew those words were not directed at him, but then what on earth…

A chill ran down his spine. Father Sabaku was like En. En could see demons. Father Sabaku was more powerful than En, though. Father Sabaku could see _and_ hear demons. And, every time he came to Lee's apartment, every time his eyes flashed gold and his skin gained an eerie blue tint to it, Father Sabaku proved just how more connected he was to other plains of existences than everyone else around him.

Lee knew he would see nothing if he looked up, but he did so nonetheless.

"You can tell him that I will find him in whatever hole he's hiding in and I will tear his rotten heart out and feed it to Lucifer himself."

The threat was delivered so coldly and with such certainty that Lee took a step to the side, away from whatever Father Sabaku was conversing with. He most definitely did not want to get caught in the middle of this argument.

And then, slowly, it occurred to him that standing on the sidelines of an argument between an unseen evil and a weakened priest was not the best he could do, and he always put his best efforts to protecting the ones he loved. His past had already showed that.

He muttered an apology as he unbuttoned Father Sabaku's cassock and went searching for his vial of Holy Water. Father Sabaku took no notice of Lee manhandling him and continued to glower at something malevolent and invisible to everyone but himself.

_He will never desire you the way you desire him_, whispered a voice in his head. He froze, something about this screaming of déjà vu. _You are used, waste of the body. There is a gun in his inner pocket, you know it is there. You never speak of it, but it is there nonetheless. Take it from him and use it. What have you to live for anyway? The man you love will only ever see a whore when he looks at you._

His hand was reaching for the metallic weapon before he even realized what he was doing. He jerked back. Wait, he didn't want to use that gun! Not on the man he loved, nor on himself. Even if what the voice said was true, it was enough to know that Father Sabaku trusted him enough to come to his apartment when he needed help.

Then he stumbled, crouched low, hands in his hair as he released a short cry of pain and shock. For a moment, he swore he was in the orphanage, sixteen years old and feeling Bishop Shimura's belt cut into his wrists as the Holy man abused his body and whispered filthy things in his ears.

_You're going to burn in Hell, _Bishop Shimura had groaned. _No one can save you from your own dark soul!_

He looked up into Father Sabaku's face, unsure of himself in a way he hadn't been in years. Terrified. The memory was there, so close that he could feel Bishop Shimura's hot breath against his face, the burning of his wrists, the suffocating weight of a larger body on top of his. Everything around him was muted, as if his senses had turned inward towards the memory.

_It's your aura_, Neji had announced. _Men can't deny you for your aura. It _screams_ 'save me, I'm not as tough as I look'._

He had never before seen Father Sabaku move so fast. The gun he had suspected to be in the priest's cassock revealed itself and Father Sabaku's glass rosary became tangled around its barrel as he aimed just over Lee's shoulder and pulled the trigger.

If there was a bang, Lee did not hear it. He clapped his hands over his ears at the shrill scream of agony and rage that echoed in his ears, no, his _mind_, and stumbled back as a weight he hadn't even realized was on his back dissipated.

It took a few moments for him to realize that the voice was gone. The memories were safely tucked away again, far from his conscious, and he slowly let his arms fall back to his sides. Almost in awe, he turned and saw the wall behind him unscathed. He knew Father Sabaku had pulled the trigger, knew that a round had been released, even if he hadn't heard it, yet the wall behind him was completely untouched.

He turned wide eyes on the revolver. "Did you just shoot a _demon_?"

Father Sabaku set the gun aside and met his eyes. "It followed me in. I'm sorry that it got so close to you."

He was floored by the apology but more concerned about the fact that Father Sabaku looked twice as bad now than when he had first tumbled through the door. His thick red hair was limp and damp around his ashen features and the shadows beneath his eyes made his cheeks appear hollow as his lips cut a thin, white line through his haunted features.

"Oh, no, no reason to worry about _that_," Lee croaked. He reached out before he could stop himself and pushed Father Sabaku's hair out of his face. His palm touched the scar carved into the priest's forehead; and, yes, it was a scar. More than that, it was a burn. He had asked Father Sabaku about it once, and the older man had admitted that the red ink was to stop concerned worshipers and those in need of his exorcising skills from asking how he had burned himself in such a peculiar fashion.

It had been the day that Lee had realized that Father Sabaku did not care how others perceived him and his past, as long as they had no _real_ clue of what he had been through and who he really was. That was the secret of Father Sabaku's that irritated him the most.

"I will make you some broth," Lee whispered, despising how his voice wavered. The demon had said things, and Bishop Shimura, though gone, always found a way to destroy Lee in a new way. "That will help you get relaxed. Gosh, I wonder what you did before I came along!" He meant it as a joke, something to hopefully put himself more at ease. He was perversely delighted about the fact that Father Sabaku came to him and no one else.

"I would stay in an underground cell at the Vatican until I was in control of myself again," Father Sabaku answered bluntly, without emotion. He asked for no pity and his tone implied that he had said all he would on the subject.

It was still more than Lee had expected to know, though. He held back his indignation that the good priest would have to resort to a cell, a _cage_, in more or less words, and his imagination was running wild, putting the image of the man he loved in a room too small to turn around in, walls made of cement and silence, the single way in or out a mesh of rusting bars that were still too strong to break through. There was a messy cot that filled up most of the space and a bucket in one corner.

He shook his head. Surely, his imagination was far worse than the actual situation.

His imagination pointed out cruelly that, then again, the actual situation could be far worse than anything he could imagine.

He growled low in his throat and Father Sabaku gave him a dull look.

"I just do not like the idea of you in a prison cell," Lee opted for the truth.

Father Sabaku rested a hand on his head. Lee froze, at a loss of what to do with the physical contact. His heart warmed but his body shook.

"You are too kind, Lee."

His throat closed. "I could say the same about you," he replied with mock haughtiness. Meanwhile, all he could think about was that Father Sabaku was praising him.

It was one of the top ten greatest moments of his life.

Father Sabaku released him in favor of laying down. "Try not to let me fall asleep."

"Of course, Father Sabaku." Lee nodded dutifully. "And, if you do, I can always hit you." Father Sabaku _almost_ smiled, and that was why Lee said it. Every single time. It hadn't worked after the first time, but Father Sabaku was till amused by it.

He listened to Father Sabaku pray. They were always psalms of protection and demon banishment.

Lee clasped his hands together and leaned over the priest. He opened his mouth but nothing came out. Every line he had ever memorized, all of the sermons and phrases he had ever committed to memory, missing. He searched his empty mind frantically.

The words that spilled off of his tongue were ones he hadn't spoke since he was a child, since the night he had wandered the orphanage, looking for his lost roommate and grumbling about the sleep he would lose. That had been the night of lost innocence.

"_Now I lay me down to sleep,_

_I pray the Lord my soul to keep._

_See me safely through the night,_

_And wake me with the morning light."_

He jerked. Now where had _that_ come from?

Father Sabaku sighed, a strangely peaceful sound. "Amen."

Lee swallowed thickly. "Amen."

~""~

_Author's Note: Taken from Survivor Support at tumblr at com: 'Re-experiencing the trauma,_

_Rape victims may experience uncontrollable intrusive thoughts about the rape, essentially unable to stop remembering the incident. Many rape victims have realistic nightmares and dreams about the actual rape. In addition, victims may relive the event through flashbacks, during which victims experience the traumatic event as if it was happening now. Additionally, victims are distressed by any event that symbolizes the trauma of rape. Victims avoid talking about the event and will avoid any stimuli or situations which remind them of the rape.'_

_I am not happy with this chapter, not at all, but it is what it is…_


	17. Fifteen: The Most Powerful Force

Ninety-seven days… Just over three months.

That was how long he, and the Cathedral by extension, had gone without word from Father Sabaku. The priest had told his followers during one Sunday Masse that he would be off doing business for some time and that another priest would be temporarily replacing him. The older, more stubborn generation had been glad for the reprieve.

Everyone else, the people who needed to hear Father Sabaku's kind sermons, the children who were fascinated with his red hair, En who wanted to grow up to be just like Father Sabaku, and Lee, Lee most definitely, missed the man more than any of them could articulate. No one knew when he would be back and that was more nerve wracking than the mystery of why he had left to begin with. Everyone who cared for the man walked around as if in a funeral-induced daze.

So Lee had done what he could do and he had gotten on a train to visit Naruto and Hinata. Hinata greeted him at the door, glowing, excited about her upcoming marriage to the man of her dreams. Lee tried to match her level of joy, but all he could think about was Father Sabaku and what he could be doing.

Naruto walked through the door fifteen minutes after Lee's arrival, carrying groceries and blushing bright red as he held a smaller bag against his chest. He froze when he saw Lee on the living room futon. "Uh… Wow, hey, Bushybrow. You're here!" A fake smile stretched his lips too wide. Lee threw a concerned look at Hinata.

She merely continued to glow like the Christmas trees she loved to decorate.

Lee, however, was not stupid, and he put two and two together. "Gosh, Hinata, are you expecting?"

Naruto's eyes rolled into the back of his head and Lee more felt him crash into the ground than anything else. The floor shook and he was certain he heard something crack as Naruto face-planted into the thin carpet.

Hinata giggled. It was an endearing, _evil_ sound of pure blissful mischief as she continued to sit across from him, completely and irrevocably unconcerned about the fact that her fiancé had just fainted.

"Since we're already getting married, it won't be the end of the world if I am," she explained calmly. "Naruto is more afraid of my father than anything else." She looked away shyly. Her fingertips danced over her flat belly. "He'll make a great dad."

Lee smiled. "Yes, he most certainly will!"

"And there's something else that has been on our minds…" She trailed off. Her glow remained just as bright but her joy appeared less genuine. "Lee, we've noticed that you've been… W-well, maybe in l-love with someone…?"

He froze. Oh, goodness, no. He couldn't be _that_ transparent. Could he? "Whatever do you mean, Hinata?"

She sighed and her head dipped low. Her curtain of purple-black hair fell forward. "I think you l-love Father Sabaku but Naruto just thinks you like men. He really d-does love you like a brother, so he's been trying to u-understand and, and, and…" She sucked in a deep face and swayed for a second. Lee reached over and steadied her with a hand, working on autopilot as her garbled words slowly pieced themselves into an order he could understand.

"I just want you to know," Hinata began again, more calmly, "that Naruto and I will love you no matter what. And I think… I think you and Father Sabaku will be very happy together."

"How did you…" He didn't have the strength to finish that question.

Hinata, luckily, had the strength to answer it. "I've seen the way you look at him. You look at him the way I look at Naruto – like the sun doesn't rise if he's not there. It took Naruto longer to figure out, but I think it was just a lucky guess on his part." She twiddled her pointer fingers together. "He was at your apartment a-and he snooped through your dresser and, um, f-found a spandex suit…"

Lee blinked at her. Blinked a second time. Before he could stop himself, he busted out laughing. He laughed so hard, he nearly fell backwards off of the couch. His arms came around his belly and it almost _hurt_ how hard he was laughing. Hinata just stared at him as if he had lost his mind and he still couldn't stop.

A spandex suit he had never worn, gifted to him by Neji's jujitsu sensei, had somehow spilled his secret for him. Naruto knew he was gay, Hinata knew he was in love with a priest, and Father Sabaku was missing somewhere in the world.

Since the last two options left to him were to go mad or to bawl his eyes out, he opted for the former and laughed till his voice cracked and his vision went white.

Hinata had a hand on his shoulder when he finally came back to himself. Naruto's prone form was groaning in the background.

"Are you okay?" Hinata asked softly, almost fearfully.

He opened his mouth and the thing that came out was the opposite of what he meant to say. "No. I am not okay, Hinata. I love Father Sabaku and there is not a single thing I can do about because he is sworn to celibacy and I have been defiled and he is far too good a man for me and Naruto is my best friend and if he can not accept the fact that I am gay, then I do not think I will be able to handle it."

It all spewed out before he could suck it back in and hold it in his chest where all his other unsaid truths lied, pressing hard on his heart till the weight of his little white lies and secrets would stop it from beating.

Hinata bit her bottom lip gently. "Y-you know… Roman Catholic priests aren't r-really _sworn_ to celibacy. I looked into the history of it one time, and I found out all these i-interesting things…"

Lee knew that Hinata's stutter meant she was embarrassed. Naruto had told him stories of when he had first met Hinata and her stutter had been more pronounced. They had worked on it since the so that it only rarely reoccurred.

"Like, um, that there's n-nothing really said about celibacy in the Bible… Well, t-there's this one thing about eunuchs, b-but that's about it. Most of God's apostles w-were married, though, s-so it should have been self-explanatory t-that God didn't want His children t-to be celibate and a-alone. Or else, why would h-he have created Man and Woman? I-it was actually a belief that s-s-s-sex with a woman made men u-u-_unclean_ because women are less p-pure… There were prohibitions a-and laws to stop priests from marrying or h-h-having s-s-sex that had no religious b-basis, really."

Lee was floored by this knowledge. "What basis did they have, then?"

Hinata shrugged, face brazen red. Intimacy was obviously a subject she had difficulty talking about. "Land, mostly. Priests and Bishops used to have political power based on the land they controlled. In order to keep the land to the Church once they died, celibate and unmarried clergy were named heirs so there would be no rivals. Making celibacy a religious obligation was the best way to get the clergy to obey. Of course, no one will admit that the Church saw materialistic goods over its own followers…" She trailed off again.

Lee looked over his shoulder to see Naruto rubbing his nose tenderly, eyes watering. "'Ey, Lee," he nasally greeted. "Whad's ub?" It was obvious that he felt awkward being there. Lee was just happy that, beyond the stiff greeting, there was no disgust in Naruto's sky blue eyes. Lee could not bring himself to care whether or not Naruto accepted him for being gay as long as he did not turn Lee away.

They had been through so much together… Having Naruto remove himself from his life, and undoubtedly taking Hinata with him, would most possibly destroy him.

"The love of your life is giving me hope in love," he answered truthfully. "At least in one aspect."

At the same time, though, Father Sabaku might be one of the priests that still valued his celibacy, even if Hinata said that it wasn't necessary.

Even if Father Sabaku didn't, however, he still deserved more than Lee.

Hinata was either a mind reader or his expression mirrored his thoughts exactly because she smiled angelically and held her hands out to him. He thoughtlessly put his hands in hers. "Remember how you thought you didn't deserve me, Naruto?" She spoke to her fiancé without taking her eyes off of Lee's gaze.

He saw Naruto's blush out of the corner of his eye and his nod. He sniffed carefully and, when confident that he hadn't actually broken his nose, released it. "Yeah, but what does that have to do with anything?"

"Remember how I told you that, even if you thought you didn't deserve me, I still loved you?" Her voice was soft and low, reminiscent and full of the love she felt for Lee's best friend. "And, as long as you loved me, it didn't matter that I didn't deserve you either?"

"Well, yeah, but you really could have anyone you wanted…"

She threw Naruto a charming, comforting smile. The blonde's words drifted off into oblivion as he offered a goofy smile back.

"Maybe you should take the risk before deciding what's for the best," Hinata spoke to Lee now without looking at him.

"Whoa, wait, wait…" Naruto seemed to be having a mini-panic attack. "Lee likes someone? Sh-_itaki mushrooms_! No can do!" It showed how shocked he was that he used Lee's name instead of his nickname. He felt a moment of fear that this would be the day Naruto would throw him out and never wish to see him again. "I mean, no one's good enough for him! I can live with him being, y'know, but he's not actually supposed to _date_ anyone. I'd have to kill them and then I'll never be allowed to be a priest and I'll be thrown in jail and our baby won't have a daddy and, _no_." He was suddenly there at Lee's side, grabbing his shoulders and shaking him. "Don't do it, man! Don't do it! I can't take the mental image of you with a guy, okay? I keep thinking _back_ and then all I can focus on is the fact that you'll hate it and you'll hate yourself for trying and then I'll wake up one morning and _you won't be alive_." He sucked in a deep, loud breath. "No," he finished stonily. "I'll go to the adult toy store with you if you need to, but, _no_. You can't be with another dude! That's final. I wouldn't be able to take it, man."

Lee burst into tears. "You r-really do care!"

Naruto scowled. "Did you think I _didn't_?"

"I did not know this much!"

Hinata patted him on the shoulder. "I'll leave you two alone." She graced Naruto with her lovely eyes and smile and warmth of her embrace as she kissed his cheek chastely. "Welcome home, Naruto."

He grinned. "I'm home!"

She tugged the small brown paper bag from his arm and gracefully walked away. Naruto didn't seem to notice that he had been swindled till the bathroom door clicked shut.

"I know I'll love any and all of our babies, no matter the consequences," he whispered, "but I don't think I'll live past us telling her dad that she got pregnant _before_ the wedding."

Lee gave a watery chuckle and sniffled. "I am sure you will find it within yourself to fight to live."

"Yeah. I mean, I've got this gorgeous woman who loves me and, if we have a kid, that will be _great_, that'll be like, like, fu-_dge_, I don't even know, Bushybrow. When I make it to priesthood, Hinata as my wife and our baby in my arms, that will be as close to Heaven as I think I'll ever get."

"Actually…" Lee hated to have to be the one to put it the _other_ way, but… "I was thinking that, if her father did manage to kill you, that would not only leave Hinata as a single parent, but also a single parent that was never married. I hear the family she comes from is very stringent…"

Naruto's face was blank for a second.

Then it was as if a demon had possessed him. He snarled and his eyes sharpened and the whisker-like marks on his cheeks stood out starkly against his enraged expression. "If _anyone_ calls my child a bastard child, I'll come back from the dead and wring their scrawny little necks!"

"All the more reason for you to live, Naruto." He thought of his own reason to live. "Love is a very powerful thing, is it not?"

"Yeah." Naruto relaxed by small degrees. "Love's the most powerful thing! Love is what faith is made of, y'know? Love for God, love for the children He created, love for the forgiveness He shows… Man, when Hinata came my way, I thought I'd been blessed. I still think I've been blessed! One day, I really want you to feel like this, Bushybrow… No, no, no, _no_! Forget that, no! Just, y'know, be celibate or something. That's trendy, right? Something about eunuchs…"

"Naruto," Lee cut through the blonde's confusing sermon. "I love Father Sabaku."

"… Oh." Naruto blinked stupidly at him for the longest and most terrifying of moments. Then, slowly, he grinned. "Oh. Yeah. That's cool, Bushybrow."

The bathroom door opened. Both men turned expectantly to the glowing angel that stepped into their presence.

She looked from Lee to Naruto and then back again. Nervously, she settled on Naruto. "Our family wants to be s-started now."

Lee hadn't realized he had been holding his breath. He watched Naruto swoop down on Hinata with a whoop of joy and he lifted his woman into the air and spun her in mad, widening circles as they both laughed.

The love that came from them was nearly enough to make Lee weep from the beauty of it. Instead, after a loud "Congratulations!", he showed himself out. The couple seemed intent on celebrating the beginning of their family in the same way they had begun their family, if the way they looked at each other was any indication.

He paused outside of the apartment complex and looked up. The sky was clear, dazzling constellations winking down at him.

"The next time I see Father Sabaku," he whispered determinedly to the sky, "I am going to tell him that I love him with all my heart and that I want us to have a relationship." Saying it out loud would make it harder for him to back out later.

Now he just had to wait for the priest to come back from wherever he had gone to.

~""~

_Author's Note: I found this really interesting site while I was trying to find the name to something else – if you are a victim of rape and you're confused because your body responded or if you're ashamed because the person who attacked you used your pleasure to their advantage, I suggest looking at it:_

_www_dot_pandys_dot_org_slash_articles_slash_arousalandassault_dot_html_

_Here's a snippet from the site:_

'_Rape and Sexual Arousal:_

_Aphrodite Matsakis writes about sexual arousal or orgasm in rape:  
"Before you chastise yourself for one more minute, remember that your sexual organs do not have a brain. They cannot distinguish between a mauling rapist and the gentle touch of a lover. They simply react to stimulation the way they were physically designed to respond. If you climaxed or had some other sexual response to the rape, this does not mean that you enjoyed it." (1992, p.73)'_

_Also, something I found interesting: 'Marital/Partner Rape and Sexual Arousal:_

_Marital rape researchers David Finkelhor and Kersti Yllo found that some women in their study reported that they had experienced pleasure during the rapes, particularly in cases of repeated rape. They write that this appears to be an "adaptive response" that makes repeated rape more survivable (1985 p 125).'_

_This is a very long author's note._


	18. Sixteen: Best in Red

Sensation had worn off a long time ago. The ache in his knees and the dull pain in his bent back had been overpowered by his growing hunger. The deep-setting chill of the dark, dank dungeons had ceased to bother him, and the small, echoing noises of scattering and curious critters, enhanced by the stony silence, could not break his concentration.

The prison cells of the Papal Fortress he kneeled in were infested. The countless number of criminals and accused and innocents that had inhabited this very place had made certain to bring their demons in life and leave their souls behind in death.

Though Gaara could not see the spirits, he could feel their frigid touch on his naked torso. Though he could not hear them, he knew they were speaking to him, and the icy gusts of breath against his face and ears and the back of his neck was far more inhibiting then the cold of the dungeons themselves.

It was unthinkable that tourists were allowed down here in the summer, as if the morbid and desperate history of the dungeons was something to be marveled and shared with family and friends. Gaara could not even comprehend the person who would not only willingly enter these prison cells, feel the dirty touch of death, but pay to do so.

He whispered low, hopeful words against his glass rosary, eyes shut and lips blue-tinted.

It wouldn't matter if he did open his eyes. Without any source of light in the dungeons, there was no such thing as adjusting to the darkness. It would remain, no matter if he stared into it for an hour or a day, pitch black.

"Mother," he said, "I don't know what to do." And he pressed the Libyan Desert Glass rosary, the prayer beads his mother had painstakingly made for him in secret while he had sat in her womb, knowing what he would be born into, to the scar on his forehead.

He had no memory of burning it into his skin. Love, the greatest power, the most superlative force in the world, mocked in kanji, a memory of his late Japanese mother, the woman who had given up everything for him.

Had it been worth it? Was he a man that she would have been proud of? He couldn't know. Not for certain. Years of his life were still cast in a haze, as if looking through mottled glass.

"What would you have me do?" he asked his mother, as if she would honestly descend into the morose and sinister shadows to answer him.

It would have been nice. If it was that simple and the woman who had willingly given her life so that he could keep his would tread where tourists had braved, it would have been nice to get an answer.

When one was not forthcoming, however, he asked, instead, "What would you do?" And then he tried to imagine that very circumstance.

He was fading. Not quite dying, not his body, anyway. And he was weakening. His strong will was beaten away by _his_ voice, the _"You were born for this" _and _"Give in to your destiny"_ and beloved memories that he had used to rely on, that made him stronger, were becoming harder to remember, as if someone was purposely erasing them from his mind.

Random exclamations would enter his thoughts during Masse. _"He's raping his daughter" _and _"She wants you to fuck her in the pews" _as well as _"I dare you to love him back, see what I'll do to him"_ berated his spiritual shields and masticated his belief in the good that was in his followers.

There was a dark side to everyone, and it was the combination of their goodness and their morals and their self-control that made people closer to God. Gaara knew this, it was a sermon he reintroduced every now and then, making certain that his younger followers understood and trying to make his older followers understand that no one was perfect, and God loved them all anyway.

God had made Man and Woman in his image, but he had changed them slightly. To Gaara, that was what he believed that meant.

But _he_ would not stop talking. _"She molests the children she babysits"_, _"He swindles money off of his customers"_, _"She's an alcoholic"_, _"He hit his wife last night"_.

How could he continue fighting for his own soul when the souls of everyone around him were so… tainted?

"_Why bother sticking around?" he_ had said. _"Just give in, I'll take over."_

And he just couldn't… did not have the strength to… keep _him_ out.

Which was why he was here, in silent prayer, beneath the Vatican, asking his late mother to save him one more time. The black spots in his memories were growing, and he knew more of other people's sins than he knew of himself anymore. Though he had managed to keep his temper under control, it was just by a hair's width that he managed to do so. The urge to snap at the ignorance and fake innocence of some of his followers was unbearable and an idea had been implanted about the children at the orphanage…

One that Gaara would sooner kill himself than go through with. Yes, the world was an ugly place, but only if he refused to look around to find the beauty. And the children, there was hope for them. There was hope for all of them, there was no need… There was no want to…

Maybe there was, though. And the idea festered and grew like a tumor, becoming more malignant.

One day, those children would die anyway. If they aged a day or a hundred years, they would see the evil in the world. They would become evil, there would be no saving them, not unless he…

Gaara wheezed and bowed his head till his temples grazed the ground. "No," he told himself. "No," he said again, and the idea receded… just a bit.

What about En? Could he bear to do that to En? Those blind eyes looked up to him. That boy… admired him. Idolized him. God knows why. And En's friends, Lee's whole roost of chicks, they were dear to him, in a way. All of the children were, not just the orphans, but those three practically glued themselves to his side whenever they had a chance.

No. He could never do such a thing to them. After all, hadn't he already nearly died to save En's life? True, that had been over two years ago, and incidences had followed after where Gaara had had to save Lee's roost of chicks again.

The thought of his own hands taking their lives… The light dulling from their eyes, the pure and untouched love and admiration they had for him twisting into fear and confusion, and then nothing…

He wouldn't do it.

That would be something his mother would be proud of, he decided. His prayer beads, slick against his clammy, cold skin, grew warm. With them, the rest of his body was cocooned gently and comfortingly.

He smelled a woman's perfume, faint and sweet.

"Mother…"

For now, he would have to keep fighting, then. For every faded memory, he would have to create a new, happy one. For every sin that slipped into his thoughts, he would have to strengthen his belief in others. Not every person could be good. Not everyone had that sort of restraint.

It was time to go back. Home?

He managed to move one numb, tingling hand across the surface of the ground, locating his cassock and feeling for a pocket.

The key to Lee's apartment was just as warm as his rosary. And Gaara was certainly going to need assistance once he made it back to Konohagakure.

He moved his fingers and his rosary rustled and rolled against his knuckles and wrist. That was the next question. Lee… who had stayed by his side, through bad and worse, for six months and, for two years before that, had been a valued friend.

He couldn't risk returning Lee's feelings.

His prayer beads instantly went cold.

"I can't," he told his rosary. His voice was husky and cracked from overuse. "He has already been attacked because of me."

He would never forget that wide-eyed, haunted look on Lee's face when the demon leaped on him and stuck in his claws. Gaara had heard the things the demon had said, and he knew it had messed with Lee's mind, dragging him back into a flashback-induced panic attack. Gaara had never before felt the need to save someone as much as he had in that moment, in the very instant that demon had toyed with…

On the heels of that thought came the realization that it might be too late.

His rosary grew warm again. Enveloped in a warm, unseen embrace, he bowed his head in self-contempt and a bit of acceptance. "Damn it."

It was time to go back, though, and he managed to push his sore, stiff body into his clothes.

Dressed and just slightly less troubled than when he had arrived, Gaara pushed his mind to focus on his most pressing dilemma and greatest show of faith in his sense of direction.

The candle he had come down with had burned out quite some time ago and he hadn't thought to bring a spare. It was going to take some time to find the stairs.

~""~

He was first aware of the dark velvet interior of a large, stone-wall cellar. Incense was heavy in the air, dizzying and visible.

Lying on a raised platform in the center of an inverted pentacle was a woman, obviously drugged and very dazed. Her head lolled from side to side. Occasionally, she licked her lips and groaned. Her body was too heavy for her to move.

She was Gaara's mother.

The door at the top of the stairs opened and men and women in dark red hooded robes filtered in, chanting in unison. The last man to enter wore a robe of white, and his hood was down.

He was Gaara's father.

An elderly woman's voice chimed louder than the rest as everyone else quieted. She carried a bowl of blood in her hands, and kneeled at his mother's side. She dipped her fingers into the blood and began writing on his mother's flesh. Satanic symbols and designs, swirling and curving into being, over her womb and breasts and vagina, onto her inner thighs.

All the while, the woman chanted. When she was done writing, she took the last of the blood and opened his mother's mouth, forcing her to drink it. Then she stood and retreated to the circle the other followers had made.

Gaara's father stepped forth. Two figures helped him disrobe, revealing that he wore nothing underneath, and he stalked towards his mother.

He kneeled between her legs, careful not to smear any of the symbols, and raped her.

Gaara closed his eyes and looked away. But it stayed there, and he was still seeing it happen, and a rough voice chuckled darkly into his ear.

"_You keep forgetting, brother. We were born together! And we'll always be together."_

"It wasn't meant to be that way."

"_You're right. You were supposed to die. You were supposed to die and leave me your body!"_

"You were never supposed to exist."

"_Neither were you."_

They were all chanting again, in time with his father's grunts and growls. The air was heavier, almost static. Something was happening. Something was coming. The very knowledge burned in the air, showed through in the excited, lustful tones of the chanting.

It was working.

"What am I doing here?"

"_Don't you remember?"_ The voice was only too pleasant. _"Let's see if this jogs your memory!"_

There was, for a moment, the leather backseat of a taxi car, the blaring of horns, and the instant of realizing that they were going to meet in the middle of the intersection with another taxi.

And then he was back in the cellar and his head was throbbing and his father howled as he climaxed in the limp, unresponsive body of Gaara's mother.

"_You survived,"_ crooned the voice. _"Let's celebrate your near-death experience with a flashback to that time we set the public school on fire. How's that sound, brother of mine?"_

His father began moving again, incensed by the chanting of his followers and the drugging affect of the smoke.

"_One day, let's make that Lee," _the voice suggested gutturally. _"We'll pass him around like the whore he is."_

"You won't touch him."

"_Foolish human!"_ the voice barked, and it echoed through Gaara. _"You won't be in control forever, just like before. And I'll make sure to that you see what I do to him." _He felt the baring of teeth in a sad show of a smirk, as if it was pressed right into his flesh.

"_Everyone looks best in red. You know that."_

__~::~

_Author's Note: I forgot to add this... The after-story truth (as taken from wwwdotsupportlinedotorgdotuk / problems / rape _ sexual-assaultdotphp # male), and I quote: "Any male can be raped/sexually assaulted no matter his size or strength. In society men often have the belief that they are expected to be strong, to be able to defend themselves and for this reason many men often blame themselves for the abuse and turn the anger on themselves for not preventing what happened. Some men blame themselves if they didn't try and fight back. Nobody asks to be raped and the blame belongs on the head of the abuser. A victim of rape or sexual assault does what they have to do in order to survive and often fighting back would result in additional pain and injury being inflicted – sometimes the best choice to be made at that time to survive and keep alive is not to fight back."_


	19. Seventeen: To Sacrifice Again

Laden with groceries and hiding a cat in his spring jacket, Lee somehow managed to unlock his door and struggle through.

He put the food and necessities down on the countertop and retrieved the cat, which looked far

tenser now than when Lee had first picked it up off the street. It had long, matted dark brown fur, and a scar crossing horizontally over its nose. And its tail, for one reason or another, was stiff and poofy as it pulled its ears back.

The cat had proven to be benevolent on the walk home, and content to curl into Lee's warmth on the cold, stormy May day. So Lee chalked it up to stress in being in a new environment.

He set the cat on the floor and watched it. The cat, after a moment of shifting around and growling low in its throat, sheathing and unsheathing its claws, took a stance nearest to the door, wide eyes on Lee's apartment.

That was just too peculiar. Maybe it was an outside cat?

Oh, goodness, what if Lee had just kidnapped someone's pet?

He eyeballed the cat's filthy coat. He had been able to feel its ribs when he had been holding it.

If the cat had belonged to someone, he decided, they did not deserve to get it back.

"I can not keep you here with me," he told the cat, thoughtfully tapping his thumb and pointer finger against his chin. "It goes against my contract with the landlord. I wonder if Naruto and Hinata would like a cat… I am sure that you are very handsome, um, beautiful… _attractive_ when clean and fed. I suppose the first thing we should do, though, is find out if you are a boy or a girl." He crouched down and reached for it.

It swiped at his hands and hissed, backing up into the door. It growled and hissed and glared some more and held itself as if ready to fly if need be.

Lee held his injured hand, the other having escaped the cat's attack, to his chest as he gave the feline a hurt look.

It must need to adjust to being inside, he reasoned. "I am sorry for making you uncomfortable. Here, I will get you something to eat!"

Dejectedly, he decided that the bath was going to have to wait till the cat was more comfortable with him and his apartment. It was so strange, though! The cat hadn't had a problem with him or being inside the apartment building till they had stepped through his door.

Lee reached for the radio and turned it on. It had to be because his apartment was so small. Could cats be claustrophobic?

He sorted through the groceries, putting things away and setting aside the things he would need for lunch, dinner, and for the cat.

"I will bring you with me the next time I go to see Naruto and Hinata. You will like them, I have yet to meet anyone or anything that did not!"

Ten minutes later, the cat refused to touch its dish and the feline's tension was starting to affect him. It would not blink, and it held itself so perfectly still as it stared at Lee's bedroom door.

The cat seemed so adamant at glaring at Lee's bedroom that Lee was becoming frightened of what might be on the other side.

He was startled at his own paranoia. "I will prove to both of us that there is nothing in there," he told the cat. "And then we will both feel incredibly silly." Lee took a moment to review that. "What am I saying? I already feel silly for talking to a cat and expecting it to understand me!"

He made plans to see Hinata and Naruto that very night. Some company was what he needed. And he was certain that two days was enough for Hinata and Naruto to privately celebrate their upcoming parenthood…

He strode across the room and opened his bedroom door.

Mentally and physically, he reeled backwards at the sight that greeted him. Almost shocked to silence, he managed a high-pitched cry of surprise that, towards the end, turned into a welcome of what was _supposed_ to be, "Welcome back, Father Sabaku! I see you used the key I gave you."

What came out sounded was an unintelligible, garbled mess of words and sounds that fit a distressed squirrel.

Father Sabaku, sitting on his bed, lifted his head from where it had been bowed over his folded hands. He was covered in cuts and bruises and his eyes were almost grey instead of their unique green-blue pastel. "Lee," he said, and Lee's inarticulate mess instantly stopped spewing.

He held out his hand towards him and Lee instantly took it, letting himself be pulled between the older man's legs. "Please kneel." And Lee did, sitting on his knees and looking up into Father Sabaku's tired face.

"Do you remember this?"

Lee's brows drew together, confused. "Remember what, Father Sabaku?"

"Kneeling between a Holy man's legs."

There was no measurement of time fast enough to say just how quickly Lee's entire body went icy cold. "W-what?"

Father Sabaku's thumb drifted over his mouth. "Show me how much you love me."

"I… I do not…"

"You're so obvious, Lee. Everyone knows how you feel about me. If you were trying to hide it, you failed." Father Sabaku trailed his hands down his arms and grasped his hands. He situated them over his crotch and made Lee pet him through his slacks with one hand. "Don't look so scared, my child. Why are you so pale? Don't you love me? Don't you want to show me how much you love me? You've done it before. Just put my dick in your pretty little mouth and suck like the good little boy you are."

Lee was shaking. Every part of him was shaking, from his body to his heart to his soul. Even the very foundations of his sanity and wit were rocking.

It took a moment to say it. A moment where he could hear himself breathe, could feel the sickness bubbling up in his gut. His heart hurt with every beat, as if it was trying to escape and leave his broken body behind. The taste of acid and the phantom memory of musk and sweat made him scream.

Or was that only in his mind?

"You are not Father Sabaku."

Those grey eyes looked golden when the older man cocked his head to the side, mouth pulling up into a grin that bared more teeth than it hid. "Does it really matter?" His voice was low and rough, like a growl. Unlike Father Sabaku's husky and soft voice. "I'm just giving you what you want. Beggars can't be choosers, don't they teach you that at Catholic School?"

"Let go of Father Sabaku!"

"Oh, you're cheeky." The older man twisted around and threw Lee on the bed before coming down on top of him. He was immovable and Lee felt panic begin to set in.

"I can-can-"

"You don't need to breathe," the imposter crooned. "Just lay there and look like the defiled little whore you are. It doesn't really matter to me if you die now or later." He shoved his hips between Lee's legs and grinded against him. "You don't get to tell me what to do, you ignorant human. I tell you what to do, and if I want you to suck me off, you better act quick and do it. Or do you want me inside of you? Do you want me to fuck you, looking like this?"

"Get off, get off, get off, get off –"

The imposter laughed mockingly at Lee twisted and writhed and tried desperately to free himself from the cage of his heavy body.

"You used to be so strong. Now look at you. I guess you just got too comfortable." He rolled down hard against him. "_Didn't you_?"

He couldn't breathe, he couldn't breathe, he couldn't breathe, he couldn't breathe… Everything was grey around the edges and the imposter's taunts were coming in and out, getting louder and then fading away, and all he could really focus on was how pathetically weak and defenseless he felt.

_Just like with Bishop Shimura_.

But he knew self-defense! Neji had taken him to his classes with him, and they had learned with Shikamaru, and Lee could defend himself. He could, he could, he could, he could…

He honestly could.

"Try telling me what to do again," the imposter hissed into his ear. "I'll put that mouth where it can do some good."

Lee somehow managed to focus on the imposter's face. It was still Father Sabaku. Somewhere in there was Father Sabaku. Right? And Father Sabaku was kind and gentle, supportive and giving… Father Sabaku was the man he loved.

A feeling of calm overcame him and he went limp beneath the imposter. He was pretty sure it was a false sense of calm, could distantly hear the mantra of _make it stop, make it stop, make it stop, make it stop, make it stop_, but held onto it with his iron will nonetheless.

"Aren't you going to fight some more?" the imposter asked, rutting against him. "I was getting so excited!"

There was a large chance this wouldn't work. With a burning hope that it would, Lee reached out and gently framed Father Sabaku's face. Those eyes stared down at him cruelly and the smirk faltered in confusion.

He looked deep into those eyes, trying to find some trace of the man who could have him anytime, heart, body, and soul. He couldn't be certain about what he saw, or if he saw anything at all, but he felt there had to be something.

Father Sabaku had to be in there somewhere.

Lee pulled himself up towards the older man, one arm going around Father Sabaku's shoulders, the other still on his jaw, and he… kissed him.

It worked all the time in fairytales and movies. If ever a time he needed it to work, now would be it.

He poured everything he felt into that chaste kiss, his love and devotion, his fear and panic, his forgiveness… Tears leaked down his cheeks. His first willingly given kiss was met with clenched teeth and unresponsive lips.

When he finally pulled back, it was to the sound of the imposter laughing at him. "I love you, Father Sabaku!" The imposter's laughter got louder. "Gaara," he whispered, tasting the name, "I love you with everything I am."

"Sentimental fool! What do you think this is, a happy ending?"

"I love you, Gaara!"

"He can hear you. He can see you. So just keep up the desperate whore act, it's not like he can do anything."

He blocked out the imposter's voice and grabbed onto the lapels of Father Sabaku's cassock. "It is cold today."

The imposter's laughter was cut short by a snarl of displeasure as Father Sabaku's body automatically moved to do what it had done so thoughtlessly in the past. Father Sabaku began taking off his cassock to give to Lee, because he cared that Lee stay warm in all weather.

The imposter backhanded him hard and Lee's head snapped to the side. There was a ringing in his ears…

No, that was the rustling of beads.

He threw his arms into Father Sabaku's cassock.

With another snarl, the imposter shoved him back into the bed and tore his pants off, taking his briefs with them. One hand pressed against Lee's chest, keeping him flat on his back, his other hand undid his slacks and pushed them down. "I'll teach you your place, you little cockslut. You'll fit right into it, like you used to!"

Father Sabaku's rosary was hot against his skin. Practically alive and strangling his wrist.

He slammed it into the imposter's chest and the imposter screamed as the prayer beads burned through his sweater into his flesh.

"Leave this body!" Lee commanded. "LEAVE!"

"YOU FUCKING WHORE!" The imposter raised his fist to hit him –

A brown blur careered into the room and attached itself to the imposter's back. With a battle-honed yowl, the cat clawed at the imposter, fur on end and eyes ablaze with feline fury.

Between one moment and the next, Lee wasn't altogether certain what happened. He saw something – or maybe he didn't – but, if he had, it looked beastly. It looked demonic, and it clung to Father Sabaku like a second shadow.

If he really did see such a thing, though, it was gone before he could even blink, and Father Sabaku's eyes rolled into the back of his head as he collapsed on top of Lee.

The cat, still attached to Father Sabaku, took a moment to visibly debate whether or not the apartment was safe now. When it apparently deemed that it was, it leaped off of Gaara and wearily made its way back into the kitchen towards its food.

Lee laid underneath Gaara for a very long time, unable to think about anything, really, or even comprehend what had just happened.

Slowly, working on autopilot, he gingerly pushed Gaara onto the bed, belly-down, set his rosary beside him, and went in search of the First Aide Kit on shaky legs.

The cat had really torn into Gaara's back. Lee was going to need to stitch his cassock back together, his sweater as well. And then he was going to have to debate whether or not to trim the cat's claws. He still had to figure out if it was a boy or a girl, and he had to give it a bath and…

He collapsed in the bathroom, hyperventilating.

That false sense of calm had worn off, and he didn't have any strength left to ward off the panic attack. He squeezed himself into a corner, naked from the waist down, wrapped his arms around his legs, and shook.

There were maybe one or two tears. There should have been more, yet the fear of outright sobbing, of making noise in case he woke up Gaara, kept him on the very edge of a total breakdown.

What if Father Sabaku woke up and he still wasn't Father Sabaku?

Lee's stomach rolled in protest and he had to swallow back bile.

He had been strong for the orphans, he told himself. He was going to be just as strong for Gaara.

It didn't feel that simple, though. He could hear himself screaming that that wasn't right! He couldn't be that strong a second time. Not even for Father Sabaku. And that made him feel like a traitor, as if his love wasn't really love.

A soft meow nearly made him jump out of his skin. Terrified, he looked down at the cat. It had seated itself next to him and was gazing up at him with inquisitive brown eyes. It meowed again, louder, and Lee stopped breathing as he listened for the sound of Father Sabaku waking up.

It didn't come.

His shaking got worse and worse and his throat was too tight and he just. Couldn't. Breathe!

The first sob tore itself free from his throat. It was enough to break the dam, and all he could do was sit there, feeling completely useless as he cried his heart out.

~::~

_The after-story truth: PARTNERS OF RAPE VICTIMS (as taken from www . supportline . org . uk / problems / rape_sexual-assault . php#male) – Many of the services which provide help and support to victims of rape or sexual assault, will also provide counselling for partners of rape victims. For a partner to see someone they love traumatised by rape or sexual assault, will naturally bring up all kinds of feelings and emotions in the partner. Many partners feel intense anger at the abuser, anger and guilt at themselves for not being able to protect their partner, and it can help to have someone to talk to for yourself whether that be a friend, family member, helpline, counselor. As a partner of a victim of rape you will need all your strength to support your partner and be there for them. Therefore, try and find a way of letting your emotions out in a safe way and get as much support for yourself as you can._

_Author's Note: Darkling221 drew a picture about this story! It inspired me to update._


	20. Eighteen: Through the Wreckage

Lee hadn't been aware of falling asleep, but he was very much aware of when he woke up.

With a full-body jerk, he sent his fist into Father Sabaku's face and twisted himself away from the older man and his reaching arms, caught up in an inescapable realm of _protect yourself_.

Father Sabaku stumbled back into the bathroom wall. He watched Lee with dull blue-green pastel eyes, arms falling to his sides. He didn't even acknowledge the bloodied corner of his lip.

They stared at each other for what could have been a century. Lee tried to see the man he loved in the face that looked so familiar and precious. Yet it was twisted, meshed with a face equally heinous and unlovable. Completely alike and unalike at the same time.

And then the familiar face took off his cassock and he held it open for Lee. Because Father Sabaku cared if Lee was warm enough and that other face obviously hadn't.

Lee whined low in his throat and edged into the warmth of the coat. He wanted the real Gaara to put his arms around him, to hold him close and comfort him, but his skin was crawling and he felt like he would throw up if anyone touched him right then. This vulnerability, it made him feel weak and low and unworthy, so he tried to stomach it.

But then Gaara wrapped the cassock around his shoulders and tried to pull him into his arms. Lee swallowed thickly and pushed him away.

"Please… do not…"

For a moment, Father Sabaku looked as if Lee had hurt him. Then the expression was gone and he stepped back and away, leaving a path for Lee to take out of the bathroom without having to risk brushing against the other man.

Lee stood where he was for a long moment. He didn't really know where he was supposed to go… Or what he was supposed to do. Was he supposed to act normal and pretend nothing had happened? Did he cry and scream and break?

He sobbed. He felt so powerless. Where had his strength gone? Where was his charisma? He had been able to stand on his own two feet after Bishop Shimura had finished with him, why could he not do the same now?

He laid down on his bed and curled into himself. He was so tired and he had a migraine… His body ached and his throat was dry. Father Sabaku slowly approached him, buttoning up the cassock without once touching Lee. He still shivered at how close the other man was to him.

Those hands had hurt him. Those familiar, gentle hands, they had thrust Lee back into the past, a little boy, a playtoy for a man who wasn't as Holy as Damned.

_Get a hold of yourself!_ he yelled at himself. But the only hold he had was his hands on Father Sabaku's cassock, gripping it closer and putting his nose into the collar, dragging in the comforting scent of the man he loved.

Yes.

Lee loved this man. He loved him with all his heart, with all his soul, with every iota of his being. He remembered that and found a small space of calm in the backwards chaos of his mind.

But he was not… himself at the moment. He was someone small and shattered that needed to be put back together.

"I'm going to touch your forehead, Lee. Don't be alarmed."

Lee closed his eyes and felt Gaara's cool hand against his heated skin. "I… I am running a fever, I think…" Stress. Panic. He had literally made himself sick. Sleeping on the cold, unyielding bathroom tiles most certainly had not helped.

"You are," Father Sabaku said. His hand did not leave and warmed against Lee. "Lee… You need to let go of your feelings for me."

His heart stopped. His love wasn't worth anything anymore. Not if he couldn't fight for it, right? Because, if that was taken away from him, what did that mean for everyone else he loved? "I do not want to…"

"This will keep happening if you stay in my life."

"Is that not my choice to make?"

"Is it a choice you even want to consider?" Father Sabaku slowly withdrew his hand and it was the most painful experience of Lee's life, as if he was severing all connections between them.

"I'm not a strong man. You are. Forget about me, Lee."

But that wasn't true and Lee grabbed onto Gaara's burnt sweater, burying his face in the redhead's chest. Father Sabaku's breathing stuttered and he tensed in surprise.

Lee did not feel ill at all. He only felt cold, even with Father Sabaku's cassock on. He felt cold and vulnerable. And untruthful.

"I-I am so sorry!"

"You did what you had to do. That's more than I did."

Belatedly, Lee realized they were thinking of two entirely different things as Gaara put a hand right next to Lee's face, over the scarred cross in his flesh like he believed that if it was out of sight, it would be off Lee's mind. Lee had forgotten all about that, even though it had been apparent the entire time.

He shook his head and grabbed the hand, holding it tightly. He still didn't feel ill. The more he touched this man, the more he touched Gaara and not that other thing that had had Gaara's face, the more centered he felt. It helped him admit to the truth, even though he knew the priest would be disgraced with him. "I am sorry I let you down."

Gaara looked at him sharply. "You didn't let me down."

"I did! I was so useless and I…" He had to look away. "I could not do it again. I did it for years for the other children, but I could not do it once for you…"

There was a long, stinted silence. "You mean rape. You think you failed me because you didn't want to be raped?"

"I never wanted to be raped! But it was either me or the children and I could not let them get hurt, not like I had been hurt. It is not that I did not want to be raped, it is that I would not have been able to live through it again."

"And you failed me," Father Sabaku repeated slowly, as if he wasn't quite understanding what Lee was saying. He let loose a long, shuddering breath. "You think you failed me and I was the one who couldn't do anything."

"I know self-defense! But, when it happened, I could not remember any of it. I was… so useless."

Gaara just stared at him. "You saved us."

"I was panicking and sick and –"

"You saved us. I couldn't do anything, and I was hurting you, but you had the strength to save us."

Lee ducked his head. "I had to save you."

"I couldn't save you."

"You were not in control of yourself," Lee reasoned.

"You were."

"I was _weak_!" he finally shouted, and needed Gaara to understand that. Because Lee would never be able to live it down.

Father Sabaku reached out, slowly, giving Lee plenty of time to back away if he did not want his touch, and framed his face with his hands. He leaned in towards Lee, eyes half-lidded, and Lee's mind went blissfully blank as liquid warmth spilled into his veins and everything took on a rosy color.

Gaara kissed him, chastely, carefully, as if Lee might crumble if he was too rough. Lee would never admit to it, but Father Sabaku might have been right. It lasted only for a moment, and then Gaara pulled away, leaving him dazed and in love all over again.

"You are one of the strongest people I know," Gaara said. Lee looked right into his eyes and knew that Gaara was speaking what he thought to be the truth. If Father Sabaku thought it was true, then it had to be, right? "You should care for someone who's as strong as you."

He put his hand over Gaara's. "I am looking at him." It could have just been his imagination, but he believed the redhead's eyes got glassy for a moment before Gaara closed his eyes.

"You're going to live through this," Gaara told him. Lee had to believe that too, because Gaara sounded unerringly certain. "Sleep for now."

He managed a shaky smile. "I would feel best if you came to bed with me," he said, using the same line Gaara had months ago. He shoved back the voice that screamed that he would be defenseless in his sleep and Gaara could change again. A phantom image of being raped again, not by a man he had put his life and faith in, but by the man who held his heart, soul, and sanity, danced on the edge of his consciousness. He forced the image to disperse. It wouldn't happen. He had to believe that it wouldn't happen. Faith, prayer, simple hope, it wouldn't happen again. "If you were by my side, it would be easier on me. A bedtime story would not hurt either."

After a pause, Father Sabaku settled into his bed with him, pulling the blanket free from underneath them and wrapping it around Lee. He stayed above the covers, a layer of defense between them. "You're going to have to tell me what kind of story you want."

"I want the one of what you have been doing over the past three months. Everyone has been worried about you. Especially En. He has missed you something fierce!"

Gaara carefully rested an arm around Lee's side. When Lee did not react negatively, he relaxed. The weight was not too heavy to set Lee off, but heavy enough that it felt comforting somehow. "I was in a coma."

"A _coma_? What happened?"

"I was leaving the Vatican and the taxi I was riding got into an accident."

"When did you come out of it?" Lee asked innocently.

"A few minutes before you hit me." He fingered his jaw tenderly.

"It is not the first time…" He wrapped his mind around that. "Has that thing been using your body ever since the accident?"

"Shukaku. Its name is Shukaku. And, no, he hasn't. He knew he couldn't suppress me forever, so he tried to break me while I was unconscious. He used my mind against me. My memories. My fears. When none of that worked, he came here."

So now the imposter had a name…

Shukaku was the thing, most likely a demon, that came out whenever Gaara was asleep! If Lee had thought it wouldn't hurt Father Sabaku, he would have hit him twice as hard that first time.

He had never realized how dangerous Shukaku could be till now. He had taunted Lee ever since he had first manifested himself and it had never dawned on Lee that he could cause physical harm. As far as Lee had ever been concerned, Father Sabaku, body or mind, was incapable of harming another person.

He had been showed the error of his ways, Lee realized with a grimace.

And then the rest of what Gaara had said caught up to him. Gaara was looking right at him!

He swallowed thickly and shuffled a little closer. This was okay. This cuddling they were doing, Lee was okay with it. "Is he gone now?"

Gaara rested his chin in his hair, another slow, calculated move. Lee fidgeted, not liking being unable to see his eyes. It was the eyes that changed, he thought as he remembered the golden sheen. Gaara must have felt his little nervous motion because he moved back to his former position.

Instant relief flowed through him. He knew those blue-green eyes.

"He'll never be gone, Lee." He began to look troubled again. Shifting to get out of the bed, Lee wrapped his arms tight around his waist and refused to let go.

Their relationship needed mending but Lee was not willing to let Gaara walk out of his life.

"I do not know how to feel about you getting burned every time he tries to take you over," Lee said quickly. "But I will do what I have to do, if you will stay here with me."

Because, maybe it was worth something. His love, that was. If he fought for it.

Father Sabaku reluctantly settled back down. "I don't know how to feel about you putting your life in danger to love me. That doesn't mean I can stop you if I wanted to."

Lee sniffed indignantly. "I could never stop loving you!" he declared haughtily, inwardly giddy. This felt like success.

"One of us has a death wish," Father Sabaku determined at last.

Lee, after opening his mouth to counter that, found that he really couldn't say it was a lie. "Yes, well… Why were you at the Vatican to begin with?"

"I was praying."

"What for?"

"Answers."

Lee couldn't help but chuckle. "Everyone prays for answers."

"Go to sleep, Lee."

"You have to be here when I wake up. If you are not, I am hunting you down and dragging you back here, I want you to know that. We have to fix your clothes and I need to bandage your back." He yawned. "I need to go to Naruto's and Hinata's. I want to know if they want the cat."

"I'll go with you."

Lee smiled drowsily, already slipping away. Hopefully, when he woke up, his fever would be gone. "Then you will…"

~""~

_The after-story truth: PARTNERS OF RAPE VICTIMS PART TWO (as taken from www . supportline . org . uk / problems / rape _ sexual-assault . php#male) – _

_Your partner may not behave rationally, may one minute be bursting into tears – the next may seem to be going through the motions of everyday life as if nothing had happened. Your partner may have outbreaks of rage, aggression, anger, mood swings one minute and then be depressed, isolating herself and not wanting any kind of physical or sexual contact._

_**How Can you Help**_

_Believe what your partner tells you and don't ask too many questions or your partner may feel you do not believe what has happened._

_Don't question the actions taken by your partner in relation to the abuse – your partner took the action she or he felt necessary in order to survive what was happening._

_Your partner may decide to report the crime to the police or may decide not to report it and this may differ from what you think your partner should do. Your partner needs to be in control of what is happening as a victim of rape has that control taken away so respect your partner's choices and decisions._

_Author's Note: MY CHRISTMAS DAY UPDATE. Merry Christmas. _

_KakaIru made a long, inspiring review, which made me think and so I went back and edited this chapter a few times to make it more realistic. I'm not very good with drama, or, more accurately, prolonging drama. So, please bear with me._


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